


MONSTER

by xdarlingnickyx (Sonny)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Fingering, Frottage, Humping (bodies/bed), M/M, Raw Sex, Rimming, Tongue-bathing (cleaning come off skin), Vomiting (non-sexual), blowjob, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:52:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/xdarlingnickyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean only lets Sam fuck him face down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From [spnkink_meme](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/58623.html?thread=16941311#t16941311) : **REQUEST - > Sam/Dean -> Dean only lets Sam fuck him face down -> Anonymous ->** Dean never ever lets Sam fuck him face to face. That would make it too gay. At least that's what Dean thinks. He thinks that if he isn't looking at Sam then they pretend to be normal brothers during the day.
> 
>  **warnings :** some bug-crawling stinky-slimey descriptions during Action scenes ( may give you heebee jeebeeies, or not )
> 
>  **a/n :** I love this prompt and what I love even more is it's such a psychological aspect of their sexual relationship that can be misconstrued almost immediately, if they do not communicate. And, being both MEN and WINCHESTERS...we know that is in short supply. I seriously enjoyed exploring their psyches throughout this fic fill.

[ ](http://smg.beta.photobucket.com/user/sonnygrl/media/MONSTER-TITLENAME-manip_zpse6a769b1.jpg.html)

**MONSTER**

**chapter one**

 

Sam pulls the bottom hem of the deep V-neck t-shirt over his bare torso, reaching up on the right to switch off the bathroom light, making his way over to the laptop open on the left side of the Queen-sized bed Dean is lying on, still dressed in the clothes he had been wearing tonight, even the heavy-duty boots are still on.

"All right, man. Shower's yours." Sam does a feline stretch to end on his stomach, and as he extends his body, he cups his hand around Dean's ankle to rub at the warm exposed skin between denim and cotton sock. He doesn't see Dean's flinch or watch those green eyes close in silent misery at the barely-there touch that sends a tingle up to Dean's groin, making his cock pull tight to his body and his ass twitch. Dean's already told Sam about open signs of affections that aren't very brotherly. But they are alone, the door is locked and curtains closed, and it's close to midnight. He's allowing Sam to caress him a little more because he knows he's being a bitch-ass about too many other things. Giving Sam more leeway seems to run evenly with what he wants from Sam, or what he doesn't want that puts an odd fear in him he can't explain.

Sam stops touching at the knee, clamps hard on the bone to slide over the thick kneecap and then he's gone, fully stretching out on his belly on the mattress, typing away furiously on some "primary search words" he tends to plug into the Internet to do case searches for.

Dean's jotting the last of his "report" in Dad's journal, and he clicks the pen to clip the handle onto a few pages to save his place for later. He goes to sit upright, pulling his legs in, but Sam's already scooting around, like he had spun on his stomach, sprouting up to grab Dean's legs as he continues to look down at the laptop's screen. Sam uses the fingers of his left hand to hit keys as his right hands takes the heel of the first boot.

"Sam! C'mon! I got this." He's trying to tug back his legs, but Sam's always a little more stronger. Dean wonders if that's purely Sammy or if that's not residual leftovers of drinking so much demon juice.

"eh, you c'mon!" Sam smirks, then keeps hold of the boot heel in his right palm, yanking at the laces with his left hand. "You were quite the big damn hero tonight." He gets the boot off, then the dirty, sweaty sock peels off as he now cups the calf muscle, lifting the rank foot to his face. He unabashedly plants a slow kiss of puckered lips to the top skin.

"ewww, man." Dean wouldn't dare to kiss his own feet after a night like tonight. But fuck if that point where warm lips had touched damp skin hadn't made him shiver right to his bones; his cock had liked it as well. "Big-DUMB-Hero, is more like it." He grumbles as he sits a little more upright, attempting to hide his wincing. He's able to pull his shirts out from his waistband, but he's going to need a boost from Sam soon.

"Shoulder still killin' ya?" Sam makes his own pained face, taking off the last boot and sock, rolling the socks together, then leaving the boots at bedside; ball of socks are stuffed in one boot. When he comes back up from reaching over the mattress, Sam motions for Dean to shift so he can help him out of those layers of shirts.

"Uh, yeah, uhm-" Dean is a bit miffed, unsettled and not prepared for Sam's more tender touches as he treats him like he's delicate China. He allows Dean to unbutton, but when Dean skips one, or two, and then gets frustrated when hands won't cooperate because shoulders won't budge, Sam's right there to lend a hand, but his "help" comes at a price.

Ignoring the laptop, for now, Sam fits his body - on bended knees - behind Dean, flush with the hunching back. He likes the extra height to look down at Dean, so he can observe and then touch at will, as if his arms were Dean's arms, hands were Dean's. This also positions Sam right above Dean's dirty blond spikes, or, if he desires, Sam can lean over a broad shoulder, pressing the side of his face to Dean's and nuzzle or nudge to comfort with affections.

Dean's reaction is always the same; at first, startled, then a tiny moment of resistance, but then Sam's stubborn to not relent, the not-backing-off causes Dean to close his eyes and submit. Submit because it's a small sacrifice to take the warped adoration and attention, for all those years Dean had to give over, not having a normal teenage boy's sexual social life; he takes this for himself now that he and Sam have started being intimate.

It wasn't outright instant fucking. Sam had known that kind of attempt would've scared Dean off for good. No, Dean was fully made aware he was being seduced, gradually willing to succumb to the way Sam could worship his body like he had always dreamed a lover would, or suck his cock so deeply, so forcibly, so god-damn perfectly, Dean had almost screamed out all twelve Apostles names in one release of breath. Then the frantic humping between their bodies, the rushed handjobs beneath clothing in the Impala, in bathroom stalls; hell, even at a damn diner while sitting in the back curl of the booth's benchseat. A month-and-a-half in, Sam still had known Dean hadn't been ready to be fucked, so he had teased all day, getting Dean riled up by the time they'd get a motel room, the second their naked bodies hit a mattress, they'd suck and blow, hump or get a handy then come all over each other with strangled cries of pent-up sexual tension. Sam would softly laugh at Dean's "god damn you Sammy"-s because he had swore he wasn't gay, and Dean sure wasn't turning gay for his little brother, who truly hasn't been "little" for quite some time.

Sam would shape Dean's head in his hands, merge their brows and sift shaking fingers through moist spikes to nibble on Dean's neck, kiss up to the jawline and then soothe their cheeks - twin sweat droplets down each of their sideburns. Sam would playfully cover a hand over Dean's entire mouth, then he would press lips over his own hand, essentially smacking his lips on Dean's...like a lover's kiss.

Dean had begged for no mouth-to-mouth kissing, but Sam was allowed to kiss him anywhere else. So Sam, being cleverly sneaky, would often tease or taunt a kiss in some manner that had jumped through loopholes to get beyond actually kissing Dean's mouth.

The night Sam had started introducing Dean to the art of "fingering" - this had been pre-fucking and in preparation for the big event - he had also opened the door to the art of "rimming". Not a huge fan at first go, but the more Sam had sucked, licked and kissed around cock and balls, the more Dean had melted into a hot puddle of goo, becoming pliable in Sam's hands. Sam could lift Dean's bare ass off the bed, hold his thighs down as Dean was bent in half and then would proceed to give Dean one of the best, and only, tongue-fuckings he had ever had - ever, ever.

Dean had come all over himself, embarrassingly so, even managing to shoot high enough to hit his own chin and a corner of his mouth. Dean had been utterly disgusted, but then when Sam had lowered Dean's legs, as Dean still spasmed in orgasm, Sam had given him a slow gentle, tongue-bathing, licking every stretch of semen along stomach, over nipples and upper chest, along throat and neck to finally reach the chin. For the mouth, Sam hadn't licked, he had sucked with pursing his lips so it was extremely close to an actual kiss. Dean had shoved Sam away with a not-so-gentle swat with the back of his hand. He forgot his ring finger had a metal band that could do some major damage to skin if hit at the right angle. It had accidentally caught Sam over an eye, cutting deep into the flesh.

Sam was too used to being punched or shoved by Dean; he thought nothing of it, but it had certainly begun to sting when blood had seeped.

"Jesus! fuck! Sammy, I-sor-" Dean had immediately apologized because a small cut had appeared, dribbling dark red blood down Sam's face like a leaky faucet. 

"no, no...I got this! I'm sorry." Sam had placed a pillow to his head, rolling off the bed to grab the duffel that had a small suture kit. He would take care of himself in the bathroom.

Dean had remained on the bed, legs pulled to his chest as arms dangled over his knees and he had watched how deftly Sam truly had taken care of his own wound. Like a perfectly trained soldier who had some vague idea of how to tend to repairing his own flesh wounds. Dean had climbed to the bedside to throw on his jeans, still a little sensitive around his cock and balls, but he had only zipped them as he was wandering in to push Sam down on the closed toilet lid. Thank god Sam had secured a towel around his waist for the time being. Dean had finished closing the deep cut with a single strip of butterfly tape, then had smoothed the surface over the dark eyebrow. "Cool." He had combed the hair off of Sam's face and forehead. "Maybe you'll have one of those sexy scars to break up the bushy brow-stache." Dean had let a random knuckled soothe down the face from temple to jaw.

Sam had snorted his laugh, still keeping his eyes lowered as he couldn't look at Dean. "Thanks, man." He had pat his brother's hand, removing the touch as he had gone to stand, walking out of the bathroom.

Dean had been set to apologize further, even "kiss" the boo-boo he had made, but the urge to piss was encroaching fast.

Sam had taken off the towel, dressing in tight boxers and a t-shirt, then had shut off the lights except Dean's, crawling into the first Queen-sized bed.

Dean had flushed, had washed his hands in the sink, then had decided to clean off his chest and face. It had felt a little weird, like he was trying to wash off traces of "Sam". He had left the washcloth to dry on the sink ledge, shutting off the light. He shouldn't have been surprised that their night together had been cut short; Sam was choosing to sleep alone - he didn't blame Sam. What had stunned Dean was how much he had wanted Sam to come to his bed so he could, at least, hold him close, give off a sense of wanting to be forgiven for hurting him, unnecessarily. Dean hadn't been gung-ho about their growing intimacy, but he never wanted to show violence toward Sam for needing to explore his sexuality, like he didn't condone homosexuality. If Sam was gay, or bi-sexual, Dean had wanted to be supportive. Hell, he had been willing to walk Sam through this journey, but he sure hadn't wanted to identify his own sexuality as anything but straight. Dean hadn't been confused; he wasn't gay or bisexual. He had loved women for years; he hadn't looked at other men the way he was looking at Sam.

The next day had been strained. Sam had still felt stung from the smack, so he was distant and acting like the dutiful hunter's partner-in-crime. He had smiled a little, but only had given airy laughs with a tiny lift to his mouth, if Dean had tried to crack wit or make him chuckle with his lame jokes. All Dean could see was that white strip over Sam's eyebrow and the look of sheer desolation filling Sam's entire face, how he would go quiet after spewing off a round of pertinent information, then simply concentrate on finding cases that had cluttered together.

They had gotten on the road by mid-afternoon, a destination in their future, with a few cases to solve from the homebase of one single town. They would stay in a motel and just drive to these other towns once cases were over and done. They would be quick cases, and then every single one could be overwith in four-to-five days, tops.

The drive had been awkward: Sam barely talking, staring out the passenger window or heavily sleeping on the door casing, Dean keeping an eye on Sam, wanting to reach out and touch, grab for the thick thigh or the huge bicep and forearm resting over the thigh. Though Sam was hulking, he had managed to huddle and squeeze himself to the doorframe, mainly so he didn't bump or brush Dean while he slept to the motion of the car. Dean was regretting his stupid, silly rule because now, more than anything, he had wanted to caress and kiss Sam to some kind of wakefulness. And Sam had been too fucking far away, dammit!

Dean had gassed up the car before they had entered the town to find the local motel. Sam had unfolded his body from the passenger's side, going into the Quik-i-Mart to buy some grub. They would be on a quick surveillance, after checking in, so dinner would have to be subs, drinks and chips - beer, maybe. Sam had walked out with a coffee, for himself, and a very fully-packed plastic bag of food stuffs. Dean could already read some of the food labels; he was glad Sam had done their grocery shopping because he wouldn't know what to buy. 

They had gotten back on the road, had checked in, dropping off their bags and duffels, then had turned around to jump back into the Impala to investigate their first case's victim. They had wanted to know her routine, the lay of the neighborhood at the hours of these "suspicious attacks" and to also see if there had been other events happening at the same time.

About three hours into their watch, stomaches had begun to growl - well, Dean was starting to growl as he had become grumpier that this "bullshit" of a case was boring him and "why couldn't they eat, for Christ's sake?!".

By the time Sam had handed Dean the food that was his to have, a car was pulling up ahead, turning off its headlights to roll into a hidden parked position under a cluster of trees. Both Sam and Dean had stopped and had begun to watch; the driver was getting out, had gone to the trunk to either get something or put something in. The person used the shadows of the sidewalk under the trees to hide himself as he had walked to reach the house of the victim. She had been swearing, up and down, that a "vengeful spirit" had infected her house since many of her things - the "suspicious activity" of late - had looked a lot like vandals had attacked her home.

At the bottom of the sloped driveway had been an oversized recycle trash container on wheels and some other garbage in plastic bags that hadn't fit. The driver of the car had brought out a baseball bat, starting to hit the trash container, then lit into the garbage bags to split them open.

Sam and Dean had been stunned for a second, but then they sprinted into action when they saw the man had headed up the drive toward the closed garage door. As they had come out of the Impala, slamming their doors, they could hear, "You fuckin' bitch! I hope you rot in Hell!!" 

Sam had run faster, covering more ground than Dean, so he had reached the man first before the bat was able to strike the first vehicle. "Hey now!!"

"Sam!!" Dean had almost tackled the man as he had spun out of Sam's hold and had tried to take a grand swing at him; Sam had managed to jump high to avoid getting hit in the side of the right knee. "Jesus Christ, dude!! Chill!!" Dean had placed hands up, palm-side out, to ward off a swing at himself. "Think this through, okay?!"

Sam had been creeping toward the man, now that his back was turned, and it was easy to disarm him as he was starting to show signs of slight inebriation. 

"Is She...and, uhm, Him-" Dean was simply assuming the man's ex-girlfriend/wife/lover was shaking up with a new man. "-truly worth a night in the clinker if she, or he, finds you out here or you, god forbid, foolishly leave your DNA, if she or a neighbor calls the cops?"

"She...is the DEVIL made of flesssshhh!"

Sam and Dean had tried not to laugh too hard.

"She's a dark temp-tur-essss who eats men's hearts!" He had clutched at his chest as if his own heart had been eaten, or taken or stolen.

Sam was standing behind the man like a bodyguard, bat clenched in the center by his huge paw as he had glanced between Dean and the man, who had seemed on his way to a cool down or losing his nerve. "C'mon, we can drive you back home. Or, uhm..." He had placed a strong grip on the man's shoulder. "We can take your keys, I'll drive your car to your house an' Dean-here can follow me..."

Dean was already groaning at the prospect of babysitting a drunk for the night.

The man had appeared to be touched that two strangers were willing to come to his need. "You'd guy's'd do tha' for me?" 

Sam has to stand down wind in order to breathe fresher air, but he had tried to remain close.

"You don' even know me."

Sam had come around, latching around the wide shoulders like he's his best buddy. "I know what it's like to be in love and be totally devastated by losing the woman you've given your whole heart to. Like your life's over, and sometimes it'd be better - less agony - to just...die."

Dean had slowly lowered his arms. Leave it to Sam to turn the moment around where he's making a new friend with some emotional whoompage of his own. "Sammy, you don't have to-"

"Dean..." Sam had twisted to look at his brother with the bat slung over his shoulder like a baseball player. "-why don't you go ring the doorbell, and we'll finally put this case to rest."

Damn. First case - done and solved.

Dean hadn't seen it that way, but Sam was right. "Keep him visible on the driveway so she can get a good look at him."

"Sure. Don't think it'll be too hard to engage my new friend into facing this way." Sam now had tightened his arm around the man's hunched shoulders as Dean had reached the porch. 

Dean only had to ring the doorbell once for the door to magically open inward.

"Ma'am - Hi!" Dean had tucked his hand into his jacket lapel to pull out his fake FBI badge for the day. He had given out his most charming, and disarming, smiles, making his green eyes stare wide and intensely. "I'm Agent Fleetwood and that is my partner, Agent Buckingham." He had motioned over his shoulder to hear Sam say, "Howdy, Ma'am!"

"Oh!" The woman had barely given a glance to the badge, or to Sam for that matter when she had narrowed her eyes on the person standing in her driveway. "Wait - is that-?!" A hand had pressed to her upper chest in fright.

"I'm gathering he's your Ex, Ma'am. We found him wandering the neighborhood when we were canvasing-"

She can now see the destruction of her trash over her front yard, the same way it's been appearing for the last few times she's come out in the mornings. "Oh my! He's been the-" She had put a hand over her trembling lips.

Dean had nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, Ma'am. Sorry, he's not a ghost, but a true 'vengeful' human being." He had pulled out his notepad and pen, looking pensive and thoughtful. "Do you still have a restraining order out on him?"

"I did, but - it, uh, ran out. I though he'd be over me, moved on, you know. I've seen him out, looking happy. I don't-" Her gaze had flashed around the yard and her house. "Oh, dear. My boyfriend's over at his friend's - just down the block from here. I don't think I can get anyone to stay with me so he doesn't-"

"Ma'am..." Dean had dipped his head to get her frantic eyes to stare right into his own hypnotic gaze. "He's ours now. He seems to be a little intoxicated, so, uhm...my partner and I will see to getting him home safely." It had pained Dean to admit this was exactly what he would do, because that was just what a Winchester would do in every case, even ones that had tanked on being true supernatural phenomenons. 

"Oh? Will you?" She had sighed heavily with some relief. "You're so kind, Agent- uh, Sir. Not at all what I thought the FBI would be."

Dean had to smile genuinely at that proclamation. "Well, we're, sort of, a 'fringe' division off-branch." He was impressed that she took it to heart that he was telling her the god's honest truth. "We take these kinds of cases seriously, when others don't, and, yes...sometimes they can turn out to be regular criminal mischief or domestic disputes."

"I feel like such a fool, thinking a ghostly presence was haunting me. As if those things were really real." She had looked off into the distance, not having caught Dean's hard swallow of wanting to wring her neck; she said it like it was all phooey. "I did think-" She had allowed her gaze to roam over to her Ex. "Yeah, he's who I had thought might have been doing this to me, but he denied it right to my face, making me believe he was better after our break-up."

Dean had extended his arms to his lower back, crossing wrists at parade rest. "Would you like us to get your local PD out here? Have a squad car sit out for a few nights?"

"What?! Oh, nononono. I've done enough to my poor neighbors already. Please, don't, but, uhm...is there any chance you can talk him down, convince him that this kind of thing isn't right and he should try to move on from me? I'd do it myself, but it seems as if any lending of a helpful hand I give to him, or mild reach out of attention, it makes him think I'm having second thoughts and I want him back."

Dean had nodded again, giving out another genuine smile. "Yes. My partner is an expert on relations. He will have him stopping this cold turkey. Who knows-" He had shrugged one shoulder. "-one day you might get a strange bouquet of flowers from him, begging for forgiveness."

"Then I'll only throw them away with his card." She dips her head and turns to the side so only Dean can see her lips move. "He's not a nice man, even when he's sober."

Dean had felt his heart beat right into his throat, attempting to stem the need to run over to the a-hole and choke him until he had turned blue. "Ma'am...then leave him to us. Have a good night, and lock your door...please."

"Thank you, again - so much."

"It's just my job." Dean had to hop off the porch to walk across the lawn; he had heard the front door latch and lock quickly. "Dude! I swear I wish would could gank this SOB." He was shaking his head, a little exhausted from such a big letdown for this case.

Sam had been looking weary, too, as the man was beginning to sag off him. "Ex?"

"Yeah. Her RO ran out, didn't renew. But he's play fast an' loosey-goosey with her, aren't you, PAL!" Dean had walked up to the man to grab the collar of his jogging suit jacket. "You...are an A-Number-Fucking-One Bastard, do you know that?!"

"Dean-"

"You like scarin' women, don't you?!" Every time the man had sagged further down, Dean had to drag him back upright.

"Dean, I wouldn't-" Sam had tried to yank the man back with a stronger arm around his waist, but Dean was just a tad-bit more annoyed and frustrated.

"Do you like-?" And that was all Dean could get out before the man full-on upchucked everything he had eaten all day down Dean's chest, covering some of his jacket, all over his top flannel shirt, splotches on his jeans to drip down on the tips of his boots. "Son...Of...A...Bitch!"

**|| || || || || ||**

So another two-to-three hours later, it's nearing one in the morning (a usual time to return from a case); Dean and Sam are about to be alone again in the Impala. They've taken the Ex home, given him a cold shower in his own clothes in his own yard from a garden hose. While Sam had gone to take the man into his own house - he's more sober and wide awake now - Dean had remained outdoors, pissed off beyond words. He was giving himself a headache, his jaw was so tight. He had already taken off his jacket and top flannel, then had stripped off his thermal Henley to stand in his worn t-shirt. He had grumbled to Sam to find him some cleaner jeans or at least something comparable from the man's closet; he really had owed Dean an entire outfit, but Dean would take less puky jeans.

Sam had exited the side door to head toward Dean's area where he's spread out over the lawn and half the bodywork of the car in the driveway. He had held out a crisp (ironed) pair of jeans to Dean. "He's hitting the remorseful stage at this point." Sam had tucked his hands into the front of his own jean pockets. "I got him to the couch with water, bottle of aspirin and his cordless phone."

Dean had taken the jeans, shaking them out. "God, I could kiss you right now!"

The moment had gone dead quiet, both of them feeling the aftershocks of that not-even-a-kiss the other night when Dean had smacked him across the face, making him bleed.

Sam had let the comment drop, crossing his arms to watch Dean slip out of old jeans to put on the new pair. He had made sure to find the waistline closest to Dean's own size, or slightly larger. They had fit well, not tight around the waist but in the legs they were practically dangling over the bare skin, obscenely baggy. "You take the bad with the good. They're dry, not-covered in vomit and they kind of flatter your new body shape." Sam couldn't help noticing how they really hugged the rounder shape to Dean's ass, rather than sagging like his own usually did. He was missing the adorable bow-legged look but, eh...

"I'm not flabby!" Dean had proclaimed righteously, his eyes flashing when he had noticed Sam checking him out as he had gone to unbutton, and untuck, his own top flannel. "No! Stop!" He had begun to advance on Sam with one palm out to his chest, preventing him from taking off the button-down. "If I wear your shirt with these jeans, I'll feel more like some toddler dressin' in Daddy's clothes."

Sam had kept on rolling his shoulders, eying Dean as he had slipped out of the long sleeves. "You can't see or hear it, but you're shivering, Dean, your teeth are chattering from here." He had eased out of the shirt, hanging the material off Dean's hand. "Warmth, is all. It'll drop more degrees out here and you're still feeling wet from vomit and water, so...indulge me to not-get-sick, huh?" Sam had slid back into his jacket. He had smiled wider, watching Dean roll his eyes, bunching the shirt in the fist his hand forms and then he's slipping into the slightly larger flannel top. 

It hadn't been bad for shoulder width or the sleeves with Dean's thick biceps bulging from constant exercising of his arms; it's the bottom hem that had hung to the crease of his thighs, almost covering his groin area.

Sam had detected the semi-bulge just in profile, so he knows Dean was partially aroused. He had gone around to pick up Dean's moist clothing, draping each article over an arm. "You'll be okay driving?"

"Yeah. Why would I-?" Dean had spun around to snap at Sam for thinking him a pussy, but his brother had hightailed it once he had gotten his 'yes' or 'no', not ready to hear Dean miss-channel his anger.

Dean had grabbed for his leather jacket after slipping his boots back on and he begrudgingly had trailed behind Sam to the Impala. Sometimes he's really grateful for his brother's presence because he's a bit more domesticated and neat and tidy, so damn organized and can, if Dean's crazed enough, be the silent, even-tempered one. Dean had known Sam was boiling inside for one reason or another. He had some idea it's his doing but little had he really known it's not even close to what Sam's feeling in this exact moment.

They had gotten back to the motel room, both dead tired and so fucking hungry. They had gone to sit at the little dinette table, devouring their food, turning the television on low to watch for local news and weather reports. Dean hadn't even bothered to drag out Dad's journal, and when Sam had eaten a majority of his food, he had broken open the laptop, deleting the case file they had just "solved". He had gone about re-researching the next two cases, making certain there were going to be no other "suspicious events" shadowing them where they could just be petty crimes.

Dean had left the table to sit on the bed in recline, munching on the apple pie pastry Sam had bought him, nursing a third beer. He had felt it had been as good a time as any to open the communication floodgates. "Thanks for your help with that dude. You were really good with him." He had shrugged his shoulders. "I'd have just beat his ass senseless and dropped him off at the Sheriff's station, let them put him in the drunk tank."

Sam was more smiles, less tension. He had seemed to be over, or past, whatever had been bothering him. Buy the glow of the laptop monitor, he had rubbed the thumb of one hand into the palm of the other, soothing his joints out of aching from too much typing on a cramped keyboard. "He never would've left her alone if he hadn't gotten a stern eye-opening talking to, and then a humbling moment where he actually brings in harm to a complete stranger."

"It was puke, Sam, not a 'deadly weapon'."

"I know, but had we not been there, he would've gone through with using that bat...woken her, the neighbors. One of them thinks they can subdue the guy, but he takes a swing and-" Sam had demonstrated being smashed in the head with a bat.

"-and he tries for homebase with a Louisville Slugger." Dean had begun to nod his head in understanding as he had filled in the blanks. 

"Exactly. This way - with just you and I - we kept him calm and cool."

"Then I put myself in the Danger Zone."

Sam had chuckled deeply, taking one final swig of his own beer, then had snatched for his trash to throw out. He had stood, looming over the bed Dean was on. "Hey, you didn't know. You got her side of the story and you came to her rescue. It's pretty much your MO, Dean." He had gone on to walk past the garbage can to head toward the bathroom.

Dean had listened to all the echoing sounds as Sam had shut the door partway: had heard the cough, the lowering of the zipper, the start of the stream of piss, then how it had hit the bowl and Sam had sighed out a noise of relief. Dean had felt the sudden onset of heat and a pulsing of his own dick. "Really? You like that shit?" He couldn't believe his body had liked the noises or the images in his mind of Sam's huge paw-like hand around his cock, stroking as hips thrust- "Whoa!" Dean had shuffled off the mattress to sit bedside, putting down the second pie pastry to swig his beer, contemplating a fourth one. He couldn't fathom why his body had felt the urges, like he had anticipated Sam wandering out of that bath and choosing to sleep in his bed so they could fool around. Christ! 

Looking at his watch, it's too damn late to go for a drive to a local dive bar, getting smashed with harder liquor and find his own oblivion, or find a willing woman who wouldn't mind a one night stand—-patron or waitress, he's not picky. But something had kept Dean rooted to stay right where he was, even though his guts had churned, tightening with unease. He had taken off his boots, socks, the jeans, Sam's warm flannel and he had thrown back covers to crawl under, facedown in a pillow. He's crossways on the mattress, taking up all the space, and he's pulling up the thin top sheet to ward off shivers.

Sam had the softest pad of feet for a massive human being. He's weirdly quiet and able to zoom-zoom about the room too fast for Dean to keep up. Dean could swear he had blinked or had shut his lids, briefly, and Sam had already dived into the other bed. He had brought the laptop with him, but he didn't surf for very long before he had powered down the hard drive, then went to sleep himself.

Dean had woken with a stiff one. It was barely tolerable to lay on his stomach, so he had attempted his side, but his body had wanted to turn and hump the bed. He had switched to lying on his back, but then he had wanted to draw up his legs and jerk himself while sucking off on a finger and playing at his own hole. Dean had become so hard, leaking precome, he had known of only one way to help bring relief to his body.

"Sam? Sammy? -you 'wake?" Dean could only think of Sam because he had turned him into this huge ball of pleasure, needing release in very specific ways that only his brother could do best. He had rolled to the side where there was a small night stand between them. "Sam, c'mon, please..." He had known he sounded desperate.

But once Dean had climbed off his bed to tug on Sam's sheets or a leg, Sam was out from under his own covers, yanking Dean flush with his chest wall. "I know, I know - feel it, too, Dean." He had shaped his hands around Dean's head, smoothing down spikes that had gone all wonky from tossing and turning. "But I got you-this...ssshhh...I'll take care of you,—take care of us." Sam couldn't stop touching or caressing Dean, peeling him out of t-shirt and boxers to slowly ooze off the mattress, dropping to the floor between their beds. 

With Dean laid out below him, legs spreading and chest heaving as he rises to elbows, he and Sam had worked him out of his own clothing until he was just as naked and panting. Sam had pushed Dean down to pin him to the carpeting, and while he had kissed and suckled on Dean's neck, they had both begun moving their bodies together, cocks trapped as hips pounded to the slap-slap of bare flesh. Dean had put up a bit of a struggle, but it had become the body worshiping that Sam was doing that left him breathless and aroused. It's so different with Sam - with a guy - because there's no room to impress. He was either hot or...not. He was aroused or...not. Simple.

It had taken a few more frenzied rams upward toward Sam's pelvis, Dean arcing off the floor and coming hard. He had thrashed a little at still being held down, but it had contained his need to flail and spasm like he had started doing the last few times. Dean had shot several long sprays of jizz safely being held against Sam's lower torso. Feeling Sam's throbbing shaft stuck to his own body had given him bittersweet joy; he had come before Sam and it had irked him, but he could tell his brother was weakening as he had released Dean's wrists, just bracing off the floor. Dean had traced his blunt-cut fingernails off of Sam's sides, then had continued dipping below their joined bodies to kiss over Sam's pectorals, licking a dusky pink nipple until the nub had budded hard and then suckled completely wet. Dean had opened his legs wider, hooking feet around Sam's legs and it hadn't been long after that Sam had released his own agonizing orgasm, face buried in Dean's shoulder and head turning to push against the side of Dean's stubbled face.

Both of them had been profoundly sweating, and both had known they were hot and sticky, not just from the come on their skin. Sam had collapsed on top, sinking lower so his cheek could rest on Dean's chest, able to hear the steady heart once the beat calmed. Their bellies had brushed and legs had tangled as their cocks hadn't gone totally flaccid yet. When Sam had relaxed but still had grown harder, he had risen to his knees and had begun to pull on Dean to stand with him.

"Lets take this to one of the beds."

"Agreed," Dean had mumbled as he had found himself reaching out to touch Sam once his hand had let go. Not only had he wanted to touch, but he had wanted to hold tight. 

Dean hadn't been able to hold Sam since that swat he took to the eye - which was now healing and just a dark notch splitting Sam's eyebrow. Dean had cleared his throat as he had touched; the body was hard, yet so damn soft, and the skin wasn't rough or too hairy. There was nothing to change Dean's mind to ever think this person was a female, even if he had shut his eyes and just set free his body. For some reason, here with Sam, he hadn't wanted to close his eyes and pretend. Dean hadn't wanted to drift his mind to go elsewhere; it had felt disrespectful to his brother and their bond. Dean had wanted this time to be a smooth transition for Sam, to whichever team Sam would decide to bat for. Dean had wished to be present in the moment for Sam, taking care of him in this journey of self-discovery as he had always done before.

Dean had advanced on Sam, tilting his head and sinking low to kiss the smooth surface of the neck, while placing hands on Sam's upper chest to drag them down, skimming over pert nipples. He had learned he liked the washboard abs and flatter stomach, letting his eyes travel further along to drink in the sight of the dark bush of pubes with the jutting cock poking at him. As he had moved closer, his own cock prodding and the wet tip sliding over bare skin, Dean had begun to kiss over the throat, Adam's apple and collarbone, then between the two breasts while caressing the warm flesh. He had sensed his want growing to a full-on need, had felt his arm being pulled, then being twisted to where they were now front to back with Sam's cock squeezed in between Dean's ass cheeks.

"ohgod-" Dean had gulped out the soft lament as Sam had taken control and had locked an arm around his neck from behind, hand cupping the side of the neck as lips had kissed the shoulder bone and the other hand had been sliding down Dean's chest to dive in and take hold of Dean's cock, stroking him gently, almost teasing him, edging him right at the head. "jesus-wha-?" He was jolting, moving back against Sam, hands grappling to hold onto huge thighs beside his own. "-whatthehellareyoudoin'tome?" Dean could barely force the words on a inhale of breath as he had begun to thrust into Sam's hand.

Sam had smiled a bit slyly, knowing he had full control of Dean and he had him writhing under him. It was easy to see that not only was this what Dean had wanted, but it had become an eventual need he had to fulfill. "Does this feel good?"

"Feels fuckin' awe-sum, Sammy - ungh!" Dean had attempted to glance down at himself, not finding the view strange in any way to watch his brother's hand around his shaft, playing at prolonging his orgasm.

Sam had pulled his arm back to grab Dean's nape, slowly moving him to lower onto the mattress edge, bent forward, face first.

"oh, shit!" Dean had looked back over a shoulder, to watch Sam press a palm to his lower back, getting him to spread his legs wider. "oh, fuck! me!" He had turned back to brace a hand off the bed as he had taken his own cock in hand, jerking roughly as he had sensed his buttocks being pulled further apart. "oh, god, Sam!"

Once Sam had gotten his face smooshed exactly where he had wanted, tongue-lapping and licking the puckered hole, he had braced his own hands on the bed, on either side of Dean's frame. He had dug deep into the crevice, eating out the gaping entrances as Dean had reacted to every insert of his tongue and licks of skin. He had felt Dean reach around with his hands to latch onto his forearms as he had stuck the thickness of his tongue deeper than even he had thought he could go, Dean pushing back to ride the motion.

"fuck-fuck-fuck-that's soooo goood," Dean had muttered into the sheets, feeling the tingles run up and down his back, all the white blond hairs on his body standing on-end as he had pushed up to forearms and had leaned his head back to moan out his growing pleasure. He had sure never thought of himself as taking a dick up the ass, but Dean's body had betrayed him, wanting something stuck inside soon to make him ejaculate all this built-up semen. "s-s-s-sammmyyyy." He couldn't fathom that the one person who would know his body so well, playing him like a finely-tuned instrument, could possibly be Sam, his little brother. Dean had wanted to say so much more, at least give Sam the kind of words he had needed to hear, ones a perfect lover would say or something of encouragement that Sam was doing too much right to get his partner fully aroused.

Dean had reached back, turning his body to lean on the right as he had hitched his right knee and leg onto the bed. Not only does this widen the hole, if he bears down, Dean can hold the muscle open.

Sam had gotten off his knees, rising slowly to shape his entire form along Dean's back, aligning his cock length to rub over the gaping hole. "Tell me how you feel—how this feels—what I'm doing?" He had begun to soothe the underside of his cock along the sensitive skin, giving not only Dean friction but his own arousal a bit of a boost.

Dean had loved that if he would lean backward, Sam was right there, warm body protective as hips were thrusting and pelvis constantly had snapped on a slow roll. "Feels-unreal. It's not how I thought." Dean had startled when Sam had dipped his head to kiss skin; Dean had licked his lips almost wanting to beg for a kiss on the mouth, just something to bring them closer still, without resorting to actual penetration. 

THAT...that would be the end of Dean Winchester, to take this situation that far, to actually open his body to take Sam's cock. Dean would need to do a helluva lot more soul-searching, relearning exactly who he was, after all these years of being one way in bed.

Dean had climbed up with the other knee, now his knees and thighs had flattened to the mattress as Sam had continued to slow thrust over the hole and between the rounded cheeks. "Please—dear god, make me come—need it—so bad—make me come..." It was as mournful a whimper as Dean could give with his throat constricting.

Sam had moved away for only a mere minute to find the tube of lubrication he had stored away. He had kissed up and down Dean's back, looking down at the indenting of the buttocks that had stroked Sam's cock. Sam had slowly eased away to squirt a dollop on the light pink hole, then had lathered a few fingers. As he had smeared the lube around with the thumb of his left hand, Sam had started reaching under to stroke the hard shaft and palm the tight balls. Dean had kept quietly begging until finally Sam had slid his hand up and over the taint, inching the middle finer of his right hand inside, past the tight sphincter. He had Dean nearly wailing high with pleasure to be filled, then he had curled the fingertip, beginning to massage over the prostate he could feel just inside the rectum.

"oh, sammy!—yeahyeahyeah—fuck yeah...yeah, fuck, yeah-" Dean had never felt such a desperate need for anything in his life, certainly never had to be for a woman to let him come. But this...this was almost too much sensation building. As the finger had twisted and turned, hitting every sweet spot inside, another was added to the first and the thumb pad pressing had gone harder at the stretch of the taint. Dean had felt the vibrations rise from his feet, up his thighs and settle around his belly, and then the pressure had built, and built itself so high that Dean rose to all fours, still staying low. He had lifted to his hands, palms flat to the bed as he had arched his back in a permanent curve, letting out the low guttural groan as he ejaculated. At first it was dry pumps of his cock with sticky precome dripping down the shaft, then his cocktip had oozed thick, heavy streams of white semen as Dean flicked his hips at every orgasm's jarring release. Strange thing was, Dean had ended his wet ejaculation period but he had still felt full, like another orgasm had grown off the last few.

Sam could sense Dean's fear, like he had some idea he would never stop coming, wet or dry, like he would never stop pleading and needing. "Sssshhh...don't be frightened if you don't come with this one-" He had soothed a hand over Dean's wide back, then over the upper curves of the ass and meaty portion of the cheeks. "-just ride out the sensations—give your body what it craves, even though it scares you."

"m'notscared!" Dean had blurted out in a breathless whisper as he had shut his eyes and just fucked himself off Sam's hand, letting him finger as deep and as rough as he had needed.

"Good." Sam had kissed the lower back area, smiling mischievously. "I didn't think you would be." A couple of rams of his fingers, more pressure from his thumb pad on the perineum, then Dean actually had begun to shake, to spasm. 

With no Sam above him, Dean had dropped to the bed, arms akimbo, not even searching for traction as his whole body had vibrated with a release - no semen, not even precome. Dean was having a dry orgasm, coming untouched and his anal muscles were contracting furiously around Sam's fingers as he had his first, probably, anal orgasm. Sam had stopped moving fingers and thumb, slowly easing out as Dean had gone spastic and had moaned with an all-over pleasure he had released. It would not be a good thing to hold a person down and contain that kind of release, so Sam had pulled back, standing there as quietly as he could, watching his brother fall apart. Sam had thought about stroking himself because Dean's so fucking beautiful when he was raw and vulnerable. This wasn't the time to get his jollies, using Dean's body without him fully aware.

Sam had moved to sit bedside to Dean's right, and when the body had stopped convulsing, he had begun to soothe over the back, massaging across the ass, ending up caressing and kissing the thickness of a thigh.

Dean had kept his head turned away from Sam, but his right arm had snaked out to find his brother near. He had whimpered pitifully, making garbled sounds for Sam not to go away.

"Oh, man...I'm right here, Dean...sshhhhh." Sam had felt that he could now stretch out his body along Dean's while Dean had eventually plateaued in his pleasure.

"What-?" Dean was barely able to speak, can barely find the words. He had finally flipped his head to land on his left cheek. "What—did you-? Wha'happ'n'd?" He was utterly confused and curious; he had known if he had asked outright, Sam would tell him. Dean was still trembling - all-over - and he had wanted to burrow against Sam, huddle to his warm chest and just soak him in, possibly kiss him - on the lips, but also over every inch of his body. All Dean could do was grab the back of Sam's head, pulling him near to merge their brows. "What 'bout you? Doesn't seem fair." Green eyes had stared hungry and Dean had found he was willing to do anything, and everything, with Sam, to Sam, wanting to give him the same feelings, needing to see him come apart just like he had. 

But Dean's so damn tired, so exhausted from a pretty lazy-ass day of hunting. He had drifted off to sleep with his fingers still in Sam's hair, hand cupping the scalp. Dean hadn't even worked his body out of the position he was last in, knees bent and thighs on the mattress, still shivering slightly when tender touches were given. 

Sam had realized Dean was O-U-T, so he had managed to position Dean more comfortably on the bed as he had given him the left side of the mattress - Sam will take the right once he had gone about a mild clean-up. He had gotten rid of semen and lube stains, he had picked up their clothes and he had fixed the sheets to not tangle. When the room was in better shape, he had headed to the bathroom and before he even had the lid off the toilet, he's stroking himself maddeningly to hardness, then edging to sustain his growing release. He had wanted to be inside a tighter grip, something he can't control like his own hand. He had wanted to fuck Dean, but it hadn't taken a genius to realize Dean hadn't been ready. Sam had wondered if Dean would ever be ready. So far, his brother had allowed him one step closer; each time Sam had taken Dean to a higher plane of ecstasy and had shown him what they could have. He had hoped that one day Dean would let him kiss him on the mouth; it was a silly thing to want, to need, but Sam's a fairly decent kisser and he's had fantasies about taking Dean's lips, about watching those lips too closely and imagining them- 

"-ahh-unngghhh-" Sam had aimed right into the water, a direct hit, and he was quaking a little in the aftermath, a bit wobbly on his feet with the memory of Dean's last orgasm. He should feel dirty or perverted, not because he had started liking the feel of a man's body, his hands, his lips, his cock against his thigh...but because his perfect soul mate had been beside him all his life. Sam had the best lover he's ever had, that can match him in bed and clobber him out of bed, keeping him from going all woo-woo Evil Doer. He had given out a smile because he hadn't known what that made him.

Is he gay and not that good at it? Or is he just better at being gay for Dean?

When he had returned to the room, climbing back into bed on the empty spot beside Dean, he had landed on his back, legs and lower torso under the collection of sheets and comforter as he had bent and had tucked arms behind his head. And, it's as if the minute he had settled, relaxing enough to close his eyes and sleep, he had felt the bed move, Dean rolling, and rolling, and rolling again until he was butting his chest wall to Sam's side, and he was throwing an arm over the chest, a leg down below had twisted around Sam's thigh. Sam had lowered his left arm, playing with Dean's spikes to hear a heavy sigh of contentment; he had let fingers trail down the nape, across the wide shoulder blades to eventually slide down to secure Dean around the waist, pulling them tight together. Sam had swiveled his head, kissing the moist hairline and deeply inhaling Dean's shampoo and hair products. 

Oh, yeah...Sam was pretty much gone for Dean, and he truly hadn't wanted it any other way. 

**|| || || || || ||**

This time it's Dean's turn to give the silent treatment, except by day they're the same Dean and Sam, but at night Dean quietly welcomes Sam to his bed. They crash in their briefs and t-shirts, sometimes lying on their backs, sometimes back-to-front. On those rare times when they hit a dangerously precarious moment where they had the idea that the other brother was a sure goner, those nights they lie face-to-face an even number of inches apart and they just stare at the other, letting eyes roam down bodies as if to make damn sure every single little detail has been accounted for. Those nights they would eventually scoot closer to merge heads, then hands, then tangle legs; those nights Dean would roll over to be taken to those same heights he had before. Where most nights he sufficed with humping until they were so hard they jerked off or pounded their bodies as one to come together, it was during those nights he had begun to wonder about allowing Sam to finally have that last piece of him, completely. 

He hadn't known why he kept holding back like he couldn't trust Sam. Well, he did know why, but it seemed fairly moot in the heat of those kind of moments. Letting Sam fuck him was almost admitting he was gay, though Dean had known he was still a bonafide straight guy, through and through. Letting Sam fuck him would also change their dynamics; Dean would get dumb on a hunt and miss an important piece of information if he changed how he felt about Sam. Sam no longer being simply his brother, but a lover and he would feel like he had to take an extra step or two to protect someone that special and precious to him. Not that he wasn't over-protective of Sam anyway, without this whole lover-bit. Dean could see himself turning into more of an asshole than he already could be. 

Wanting to keep Sam safe and protected had to feel different as his lover, bed partner. Wouldn't it be different? Was there anything Dean could do that could allow them to still remain brothers in the light, but in the dark, in the motel room beds, they could be anything they wanted, or needed, to be with one another?

Dean was having a difficult time just lying on his back with Sam between his legs and not able to feel that sentimental big brother tug in his heart. He had started to need to turn his head away or throw an arm over his eyes to keep his head on the idea that this was a different Sam - not his little brother. Dean could do this much easier if he was on all fours, facing away. He could settle easier in the fantasy this was some hot, young beefcake of a guy he had dragged out of some random bar. Dean could sell himself the theory this wasn't Sammy, and Dean wasn't gay, just riding the sensations his body craved when he could find no other means of release.

Dean was driving the Impala, headed toward the new town, a new set of cases. He had made the decision when they had crossed the border into another new state, Sam had been totally zonked out beside him as the rain had continued to fall heavy outside. He had let a tiny smile slip out as his eyes had darted to not only Sam's hands - the long nimble fingers - but that massive thigh and the prominent bulge under the thick denim. He had felt his own body react, his cock hardening and his asshole twitching. He was going to attempt an out-of-the-blue seduction on his brother so he could prepare himself for later tonight, when he would willing give Sam exactly what he had been wanting all along, but too scared to take, too tender of heart to frighten Dean away.

Dean had nodded his head, tapping fingers to the music's beat as he had mouthed the words of the song on the cassette. He had actually been happy to realize this was going to be Sam and no one anonymous, at least he could feel safe in the play of the bed scene, knowing Sam would take care of him. His chest had thrummed, his heart had clenched with a bit more affection for Sam. Who had any idea that all those times he had called his little brother a "girl", or nicknamed him "Samantha", it would actually save Dean from truly being scared of a choice of this caliber. Certainly had caused Dean to doubt his own character even more, how he had been treating the women he had loved and the random fucks along the road. He had changed his mind and had wanted to start admiring Sam for his pure heart. For all the rumor of demon blood boiling inside and going dark-side at any minute, Sam had become an honest-to-god rival and a tour de force in the sack against Dean's old prowess. If Sam could make Dean crumble, what's that say about Dean?

Sam had some idea something was different in the air when they had pulled into the motel and Dean had placed a hand on his thigh, gently soothing the expanse of jean material. He had told Sam to sit tight, that he would get their room. Sam had attempted to not think on the hot hand or the tight hold of his thigh, but the manner which Dean had exited with a look and a wink he normally had saved for bars and clubs when picking up women. 

Dean had returned, retaking the driver's seat to pull them in front of a pastel yellow door marked "4-6", and as Dean had reached for their clothes duffels, Sam had brought everything else, like a pack mule—-he was used to it after all these years. But when he had followed Dean inside, noticing there had only been one bed - and that it was a glorious nice King-sized mattress - he had dropped everything by the door, even his jaw. 

"What's—goin' on, Dean?" Sam pulls his head back, tilting to the side with the lift of an eyebrow.

Dean had cleared his throat as he had wandered over to the window to pull on the curtains, shutting them to then flip on the light switch. "I thought...what a waste of a bed for people who don't actually sleep together." He had held out both hands with a slight shrug of both shoulders, then had lowered his hands. "It upgraded us to a nicer suite, by motel standards, and - I don't know, it forces us to contend with..." He had slowly worked at undoing some buttons of his plaid shirt over the gray long-sleeve Henley underneath. "—what we know has been building between us."

Sam had narrowed his gaze on the methodical way Dean was slowly undressing, like a tantalizing striptease but Winchester-style. "I thought we were gonna buy supplies. That's why we checked out early from the last motel." He was pretty sure he could read exactly what Dean was trying to convey to him, in no subtle moves whatsoever.

Dean had gotten out of his flannel on his gradual approach to Sam leaning on the motel door paneling, bringing up his hand to untuck Sam's own shirt and unbutton from the bottom hem. "I watched you sleep all the way here, while I drove..." While the flannel had been open, Dean had undone and unzipped Sam's jeans to dive under to cup the stiff bugle he had spotted earlier. "Fuck! God-dammit! I knew it!" He had slowly kissed up the t-shirt fabric to the column of the neck exposed. "You were dreaming about us - 'bout me." He had smiled as he had nuzzled and nibbled the deep crevice of Sam's neck and shoulder. "Well, no more jerk-off sessions for you in the bathroom, Sammy, we take care of you when we take care of me."

Sam had blinked his eyes shut, head leaning on Dean's hair, then had slowly eased lids open. "Man, thought I was being so quiet about that."

"mmm—" Dean had hummed, vibrating his lips against the skin on the throat. "-you are. I just know you too well. I know how much you pull back to not totally overpower me." He had drawn away to plant both hands on the door, beside Sam's broad shoulders. "I'm a lucky man in that respect, but..." He had bitten his bottom lip, eyes drawing down Sam's hulking frame. "I don' wanna be the only one here reaching these intense sexual heights." Dean had touched his chest with a balled fist. "I want you to teach me how to be just as good to you as you are to me...teach me how to love your bod—"

One of their cell phones had rung so loud, piercing their muffled silence. It had been Dean's, of course.

"Hold that thought." Dean had put up one index finger as if to shush Sam.

"Holding..." Sam had crossed his arms, trying to contain his growing pleasure and arousal. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of his brother's pacing, especially if he had turned his back and had begun to pace away, giving him that view of the bowed legs he adored so much.

"...uh-huh—-yeah, Bobby. I heard ya...mmm-hmm...Yeah, Sammy's here." Dean had ventured back over to the door, reaching out to be an annoying piece of shit as he had made it look like he was about to yank on Sam's shirts but instead he had flicked and pinched a pert nipple.

Dean had thought he was so smooth, but then Sam had swung his arm up and had deftly dunked under the armpit to spin Dean around so he was now the one with his back pinned to the door paneling. Sam had even made a valiant effort to lift Dean a bit off the carpeting along the wood material with the force of one hand bunching the shirt material in one, while using the forearm of the other to prop Dean upright.

"—uh-huh...sure-sure...we'll be on our way, pronto." Dean had released a heavy sigh as his thumb pad had pushed the END button. He had sucked in his bottom lip, staring hard at Sam's mouth and how much he had felt like kissing him long and rough, probably biting and sucking on the skin.

Sam had raised both eyebrows, not letting go of Dean. "Raincheck?" He had given out a sad smile as he had eventually stepped backward to re-tuck his shirt in to re-zip.

"Don't you dare touch that zipper, Sam. Not if you know what's good for you."

"Oh..." Sam should've known better with those dark green eyes staring hungry, wanting to devour him.

They had to tell Bobby it was a bad big rig accident that held them up. No one had questioned any excuse for their lateness. It was only their flushed guilty faces that kept giving them away.

**|| || || || || ||**

**tbc...**


	2. Chapter 2

**MONSTER**

**chapter two**

 

They have been loading the guns as Bobby and a few random trusted seasoned hunters had been pouring over a map a few minutes longer. For once, Sam and Dean had become glad to be regulated to a lower level of status where all they had to bring was brains and brawn - each having a little more of one. Dean had loaded with two hands but cocking with one; the manly moves had made Sam stare will a little awe than he should have for between siblings.

"Would you stop it, Sammy!"

"Stop what?" Sam had been innocently seated, loading the handguns a bit less deftly as he had to spin the carriages, once they had been filled with homemade bullets. He had glanced away at his own hands as he had said this. 

"Stop—" Dean had looked around, thankful the other hunters aren't nearby. "—making googly eyes on me." He had been flattered to be found attractive, but it had become unsettling the way Sam had stared intensely on him, like he could chomp him down without care.

Sam had snorted at the word "googly". "I can't help it. You're the cooler, suaver older brother I've always admired. I suck at weapons detail. You can sleep with a .45 an' a sawed-off cuddled to your sides."

It's Dean's turn to snort-laugh. "Please do not woobify my weapons of mass destruction."

Sam had snortled through his nostrils, then nodded, putting down one gun to pick up yet another. "I'd rather be back in our room..."

"Sam..."

"—I really wanna see you spread-eagled on that bed, body at my disposal..."

"Sam-may!...please!"

"You please!" Sam had gestured one of his hands toward Dean. "You're the one who gave me a taste, then had us stop an' haul our asses out here."

Dean had wandered around the table to cradle a rifle in his arms as he had rested his bottom on the table ledge. "I told you - tonight - you can have me, ravish me, whatever-to me, but it's after we do this job. It is the only reason why we're here."

"It's one of the reasons why we're here." Sam had looked around at their body count. "I really don't need to be here with you. You're better at this tactical, combat stuff than I am."

"Sam, I—"

"You boys good here?!" One of the older hunters had been slowly making his way over to them.

Sam had immediately stood to move around and sit on the table next to Dean. It's a typical move for them to be found this close, arms and legs brushing as they adjust. "Awesome."

"Double awesome!" Dean had interjected with a wink toward the older hunter, about Bobby's age. "So...today is the big day we take the Big One down?!"

"He's a big one all right, but he ain't the only one. This is the biggest nest of 'em we know this side of the Mississippi."

"Well..." Dean hadn't been sure how to take this guy's manner of conversing; he hadn't appeared to be too people oriented. "—then I guess we better be on our toes."

Sam had scrunched his face up. "Do these people really live like bees? Worked drones and hives an' all?"

The older hunter takes Sam's words in a different tone than he had intended them. He had reacted startled by Sam's question. "I know it's not you Winchester's usual fare, but it's getting weirder out here since them Hell Gates was opened."

People had seemed to like reminding the Winchester Boys that the world of the hunters can't forget what they've done to them.

Dean had turned to glance at Sam, while Sam had stared down at the floor of the warehouse, like he had been trying to understand if he was being put in his place or not. Dean had brought his gaze back to the older hunter, purposefully forgetting his name. He hadn't appreciated the tone of voice toward Sam, as if there had been a grudge against him. "Bobby wouldn't have called on us to come help, otherwise." He was getting his rankles all ruffled because the old hunter had continued staring at Sam like he had wanted him to react in anger; Sam had simply let his eyes remain downcasted with a small grin on his lips as he wouldn't look up. "If you have a problem with Sam, then, my friend, you have a problem with me." Dean was now between Sam and the older hunter, dipping his head to get the man to look him in the eye. "—and if you have a problem with me, then we can...dis-cuss it right now." He had pulled up his sleeves, billowing out his chest.

From a distance, Bobby had seen Dean and Ranson Mitchell standing toe-to-toe, so he gradually made his way over. He had a better chance of calming his old friend down than Dean. "I thought we were clear on you headin' out first, before the second team?"

Mitchell had nodded his head, his gaze divided between Dean and then the dark bowed head of Sam. "I'm on my way. Had to pick up my favorite gun." He had moved to the table the Winchesters had been loading guns at, picking out two riffles. "Thought I'd give John's boys my condolences." He had gone on like he hadn't attempted to start something foolish, carrying his guns over his shoulder.

Dean hadn't let the asshole out of his sight until he was outdoors. "Really, Bobby?" He had spun on Bobby with frustration. "I thought you said we wouldn't have to worry 'bout them thinkin' Sam was—"

"Boy!...that bullshit up Mitchell's butt ain't go nuthin' to do with Sam an' everythin' to do with John."

"Dad?" Sam had finally lifted his head; his arms had been crossed over his chest, hands tucked under biceps as he had hugged his torso. "Was it another Bill Harvelle situation?"

"No, this was a bit more personal, like an old rivalry from high school."

Dean and Sam both had looked stunned beyond words.

"Mitchell's from Lawrence?"

"Afraid so. But it ain't like you'll bump into him at family reunions. He's a loner, keeps mostly to himself with very few contacts outside his tiny circle here. He's helped us out, so we figured we owed him one."

Dean had chucked his thumb over his shoulder toward Sam. "I brought Sam because you told me this was 'good people' and he was safe." He folded his arms staring Bobby down. "Tell me now, before I get all Dirty Harry for this - did you lie to me to get us out here for extra man power? Or do we actually need to be here?"

Bobby wouldn't let up on his own staring contest with Dean. "Have you ever known me to call you without purpose? And, no...I didn't lie to you."

"Is THAT the lie?"

"Dean, please..." Sam had started to tug on Dean to get him to slide over to the left side of his body frame. Now Sam was using his own form to block Dean from view. "Sorry, Bobby. Dean's just...feelin' a bit on the edge."

Bobby had tried to look around Sam's body toward Dean. "Well, you better get fuckin' over that 'edge' real quick, kid, 'cuz I'm not gonna be there on your back-up team to cover your ass."

"I got this, Bobby." Sam had been the one to pat Bobby on the shoulder to turn him on his way. "I'll be the one looking out."

They both had waited for Bobby to be out of earshot before Dean snorted a laugh.

"So...you're gonna be the one covering my ass, are you, Sammy?" Dean had wiggled his eyebrows with mischief.

"You know what I'd like to do with it. I'd like to keep it - you - safe so we can make it back tonight all in one big - well, two fleshy pieces of well-rounded Grade-A prime chuck beefcake."

"Mmmm - my ass is very appreciative of your fealty to its greatness."

"It's a pretty good ass."

"It's a mighty damn fine ass."

"Have you seen mine lately?"

Dean had chuckled deeply, shaking his head. "No. Is it exceptional?"

"Very."

"Hmm - now you got me curious."

Sam had held out his hands. "Anytime, man. You just have to say the word."

"Abracadabra?"

"No."

"Grease?"

"Dean—" Sam had snickered at the lameness of Dean's attempt at funny.

"I know, I know. It get worse when I'm nervous."

"Nervous? Nervous about what?"

"Everything - and nothing." Dean had tried to break a smile through that underlying fear.

"Oh, that covers, uhm...a lot." Sam had opened his mouth to say something, but then had shut it closed as he had realized Dean had been painfully honest, for once. "What?" He had step nearer to Dean, crowding him a little. He loves the smell of Dean: the rawness, the sweat and the dusty leather, the slight hint of musk and soap of fresh laundry detergent and dryer sheets, then that weird burst of peppermint or wintergreen. "Is it the hunt or—?" Sam hadn't wanted to assume it was always going to be because of him, but it could be if that confrontation with Mitchell was anything to go by.

Dean had shaken his head, turning his back as he had leaned his body on the table. "I knew it would fuckin' get like this, the more you and I, uh..."

"—had sex."

"Really?" Dean had become flabbergasted that what they had been doing to one another could be considered "sex". "Even if you, or, I, haven't—?"

"Dean..." Sam had glanced over to see the Third and Fourth teams - all back-up, including them - are farther away than he thought, so he had placed a hand on Dean's waist, under his jacket; he had played at rubbing along the lumber spine, sinking lower to tuck under to soothe over the upper curves off the ass. "Please tell me you have been somewhat aware that what we've got here, between us, is a sexual-based relationship. A non-penetrative one, but everything we've done, everything we've let the other do, is sexually related."

"I know." Dean had to look behind them, then had turned back to load more guns. "I just - it's been different with women, an' I was young an' eager my first time. I didn't know any better. I knew I just wanted it over with." 

"Before or after a hunt with Dad?"

"After. As kind of a celebration."

"She was experienced?"

"Very. And professional. Don't think Dad wanted the burden of a girlfriend on my back. He often got his own pleasures filled in the outer fringe."

"Don't blame him." Sam had become quiet as he had put the guns into the Army duffel bags to load them into the wide open van. "I don't know that I could 'do' relationships anymore."

"What?" Dean had lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. "Because of Jess?"

"That an'..." Sam had clamped hands around his hips, under his jacket. "—what kind of a future do I have with this demon blood in me? I don't want to build the apple pie life, grow to love and want what I know I can't have."

Dean had wandered over to put a hand on Sam's chest. "But you can have it. Once we figure out what hoops we gotta jump through next, there might be a future to look forward to."

"Shit! You really think that?"

"No!" Dean playfully shoved at Sam's chest, bouncing off his feet a bit. "But did I sound convincing?"

"Fuck yeah!" Sam had elbowed Dean as he started to carry two duffels of rifles to load in the van.

Dean had paused at the table of loaded weapons, not sure why he had wanted to follow Sam and hang off his every word, keeping chattering with him like he's his fucking girlfriend. Jesus...he had rubbed, then had lightly scratched over his brow. He could already feel himself drowning in the romance of it all. Of knowing that by day, each and every time he and Sam work a case, by nightfall they become lovers who pretend-fuck and suck - do all kinds of things to one another only found in perverted fantasies. He's always been a sexual being, confident and in total control of self. 

So why is he drawn to playing Bottom in Sam's scenarios? Yeah, it had boggled his mind too.

**|| || || || || ||**

Being in the last throng of the back-up team had given the brothers a chance to hone their skills at detecting and sniffing out things they would've missed had they been on their own. Technically, they had been the "sweep team", coming in after all the destruction and maiming had been done, the last battle to struggle for survival for outright killing the things that could never be allowed to see daylight. There are no second chances with the Sweep Team. 

Dean loved it, Sam hadn't liked it as much, but he would do it as long as Dean had kept remaining his wing-man.

Sam had just finished clearing out the rooms he had been in, had walked back out the way he came in, then had made a hard left with his Beretta poised ahead of him as he extends both arms, flashlight poised at the end of his barrel. "DEAN?!?" He had known Dean had gone further down the darker, danker, mustier portion of the long twisty corridor.

"SAM-MAY! I'm here! - jus' don't—"

It hadn't taken too long for Sam to follow the deep resonating voice echoing toward him. He had seen his brother, standing in the shadows with head tilted up, exposing an ear to the collection of sounds: a groan of water pipes, a drip-drip-drip of several leaks and the occasional hiss and puff of a billow of steam. Sam had moved until he had butted his back - and his backside - up to Dean and they have all sides around them covered. 

Sam hadn't lowered his gun-sight once. "What're we doin', Dean?"

"Ssshh, man...ya' hear that?!" Dean had actually placed a finger to his lips, though he and Sam were back-to-back.

"Hear wha—?!" Sam had wrinkled his brow until just at the end of one drip-drip and the spurt of steam, he had heard the utterings of some type of prayer or a blessing in some broken dialect, very close to Latin.

"You gettin' any of that gibberish?"

Sam was only absorbing "base" or root words, nothing concrete. "Nah. Where's it comin' from?"

"Farther along, I think. Sammy..." Dean had merely taken one step.

"You move, I move. Just keep goin'." Sam had taken back steps to press against Dean, showing he had his, literal, back.

Dean and Sam had moved as one, going further into the darkness and the murky warmth. Steams had surrounded them as they had come upon a shorter hall that had lead to a wide bay door. It was down this short hall that they could hear the chanting, now the sobbing and then stuttering bawls of tears. Both of them had stopped, turning in synchronization - Dean on the right, Sam on the left. They had still kept a slow pace as one unit, walking sideways.

It had been Sam who had seen the view first, and he had attempted to swallow down the bile that had lodged in throat as he had spotted the lone, very alive, worker drone.

"Dean—" Sam had elbowed Dean and they had silently agreed to twist and part, both with their guns at the ready, should the "thing" make a sudden move toward them in attack mode.

"DON'T. MOVE."

The worker drone had stood, putting on the display the fact he had been chained to the security code keypad, or even to the side panel of the bay door. The first wave of hunters had killed the Queen and her female underlings. If this lowly worker drone had any strength left it would be a small miracle as he had relied solely on the power and control of his Queen remaining intact. 

"-whoa!-whoa!-whoa!-" Dean hadn't been prepared for the worker drone to basically throw himself at the barrel of the sawed off. "Fuck! Me!" Dean had crept backward, hopping into the air as Sam had pointed his Beretta on a clean shot to the temple, probably nothing but brain splatter or whatever the worker drone's mind was made of.

"He wants to die," Sam had muttered out.

"Yeah, well...I kinda get that vibe."

Sam had darted his eyes up to Dean, wondering why he's taking so long. "No. Whatever he's saying, it's based on Latin or some Olde English." He had used his gun to gesture from Dean to the worker drone. "He wants you to kill him - I think." He hadn't been too sure, but he knew he was close.

And sure enough, the worker drone had bowed at Dean's feet, crawling and scraping all bug-like, low to the ground. There was the sound of bones creaking or crackling and what was once human was now bent backwards and sideways, looking more creature than human being.

"He don' look so hot, Sammy." Dean hadn't been able to figure out why he couldn't just shoot the damn thing...and a "thing" was what IT was becoming, no longer human though it still held the shapes of human features in its head-ish area.

Sam had swallowed because he had smelled the dead skin, making him a bit nauseous; there was new blood forming and the old blood drying off. "He's...uh, I believe he's mulching. He must be barely out of 'larva' stages."

Dean had sagged his shoulders, tilting his head to give a cursory glance toward Sam. "He's a fuckin' Emo Kid?!?"

"DEAN!?!" Still, Sam had become confused to why Dean was just screwing around and not shooting first, asking questions later.

"What?!" Dean had shrugged his shoulders. "I think I'm allowed to get a bit pissed since he wants to suck the butt-end of this shotgun."

Then Sam had considered that maybe Dean wasn't aware of what he had in his hardware arsenal to fill the shotgun that could definitely kill this bug D-E-A-D. A good can of RAID might do it. "What kinda roun's you got on you?"

"Uhm...rock salt and, I think...Holy Water."

Sam had held up two fingers, like a peace sign. "Two roun's - one of each." He had rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks that were making his neck stiff as he kept his own gun poised to shoot. 

"Wha—?" For a mere second, Dean had been dumbfounded to what Sam was trying to concoct.

"Salt Water...with a little bit of a Holy-kick in the ass." Sam had seen that Dean just keeps narrowing his gaze on him as if he couldn't comprehend. "Like a slug or a worm. He's in between skin layers or body stages, uh, so..."

"uh, yeah - like a fuckin' paper cut from Hell." Dean had quickly emptied his gun shots, first round of rock salt, reloading in record time to give out a second round of Holy Water, while he had kept moving back, and back, and back, until he had returned to the long, twisty corridor they came down on. He had paused to wait for the slow chemical reaction to happen, but in the meantime, "Jesus! H.! Christ!" -the whatever-it-was, looking now like a half-torso (thorax) with nubby arms that used to have hands, and a half-pile of green-slimey protein-enriched mushiness, keeps crawling and reaching out for Dean, and then Sam finds a prime moment to point and simply shoot at the back of the simple brain matter, head splattering out the right side. "Boo!Yah! Bitch!" Slowly, as the salt water actually had worked with the chemicals of the human-to-bug hybrid worker drone's body, he had sizzled and simmered into a nice glob of stink, that had steamed. "ohhhh, niiiice." Dean had thrown his arms up in mild defiance. "Shit! Why can't he just, you know—" He had swirled his hand around the gooey-green glob. "-evaporate as he dies?!"

"They're not like us, just wearing our meatsuits."

"Great." Dean has used his sawed off to point to the bay door behind Sam. "Think there's more like him beyond Door Number #3?"

"He can't be the last, if he had been chained to the security lock" Sam had already pried open the paneling, looking around as if he had been about to rig the lock by cutting wires and merging them as one, but then he had simply pulled on all the important colored wires and the door had churned open.

"Well, I suppose THAT works just as good." Dean had mumbled out as he and Sam crouched low, guns poised like two of the three Charlie's Angels.

One swift breeze had brought out the heavy, intense stench like being inside a garbage compactor. It also had smelled just like the globular stink of the worker drone outside.

"...fuuuck me!" Dean had tugged up his shirts collars to draped them over his nose. He had found a power switch that had turned on low-hued lighting only brightening the ceiling, but they could see there were wet egg-shaped hubs attached to the flooring, which might indicate that this was a birthing area. It had even appeared as if the walls around them were breathing, in and out, in and out. "Holy Shit! I think we've hit the motherload."

"It's a hive."

"It's a fuckin' cesspool of stinky bug creatures like our reigning Miss Congeniality out there."

Sam had smirked, walking deeper into the darkness. He could hear groaning or moaning, then the sound of a hundred eggshells cracking, echoing through the huge high ceilings and breathing walls. "Not only is it a 'hive'...they're all about to hatch."

"What? You don't mean—?"

Sam had begun to wander backward to go outside the bay door. He had assumed if the bay door was closed and somehow unable to be opened, then the hatchlings wouldn't try to escape. This effort might buy them some time to regroup, because he wasn't sure Mitchell had been aware that the things had been procreating underground. "We need to re-lock this door, and then come back with something a bit stronger than guns and bullets, Dean."

Dean had become serious, nodding his head as he had slowly processed the situation to know exactly what the next step was. "God dammit!" Swiping a hand over his whole face, he had slung the sawed off over his shoulder. "I betcha this ain't the ONLY 'hive', either."

Sam had looked briefly up at the ceiling, because he was pretty sure if they kept going down that corridor, they would find a few more bay doors just like this one. "We...are gonna need a shit-ton of C-4."

Dean had stuck out his arm, hand going to spread open as he calls out what else they could use that could be useful. "-Molotovs...flame-throwers...gasoline cans an' Bic lighters...dude, we could waste these hatchlings in, like, 10 minutes tops."

Sam had shaken his head in disagreement. "What we need to do first is seal this door shut, close it off, then see how many other hives there are."

Dean had let out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging. "Man, how come we gotta do all of this shit, when they should've known all along they'd be making more worker drones? Isn't that a bee's main J-O-B?"

"I don't know, Dean, but we need to do some hella-quick re-con, then get back to Bobby or Mitchell. Let them know this isn't gonna be a quickie hunting trip."

"Fuck!"

"What?!" Sam was spinning around, thinking something was behind him.

Dean had shaken his head slowly, reaching up with Sam's help to pull on the chains of the bay door to close it shut. "Nothin' man." He had been suddenly struck by the fact that his "plans for seduction" would be severely put on hold.

Sam had looked a little worried because the emotional change in Dean had been intense. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yup. I'm sure. Let's go!"

**|| || || || || ||**

Come to find out, Dean and Sam hadn't been the only hunters to find hives. So it had been decided that the whole set of teams would gather back at the warehouse, hole up for a few hours, probably until the next day - mid-morning - since all the hives were underground. They had to work fast because it had been learned that the stinky stenchy warmth had actually been prime atmosphere for later stage incubation.

There would be no telling what type of worker drones human-to-buggy hybrids they would be stumbling upon if they had allowed the hives to sit for too long.

Since everyone but the first two teams had nothing to do, Dean had gotten in the Impala, had returned to the motel to get their things. It had appeared as if they would be spending their two days in the warehouse. No sense in wasting a good room. Dean had taken a little detour on his journey back, stopping to fuel and grab some handy/quick grub for them to eat for a late night snack and then some snack-type of breakfast in the morning.

Of course, when Dean had returned, he had noticed that some of the hunters, in good conscience, had gone and made a huge fire-pot of venison chilli and cornbread cooked over the fire-pit. Sam had refused the offer of chilli, but had snagged a bowl and two pieces of cornbread for Dean. When Dean had shown with their two bed rolls and a plastic Quickie Mart bag of their store-bought food, he had made a pouty-face, thinking he had missed out. 

Seated at the table they had used to load guns earlier, Sam had pushed over the steaming bowl and the offer of both cornbreads, while Dean had set the bag next to him on the table, taking the folding chair opposite his brother. "You're the best, Sammy."

"Yeah, well, don't go spreading it around." Sam could already see some of the items through the plastic bag; he had curled fingers to crook them at Dean. "Come on, gimme. Hopefully, you got me something I can eat besides—" He had pulled out a good-sized Chef's Salad.

Dean had dug into his chilli bowl using the cornbread pieces as his utensil, but he could see how much Sam had appreciated that he had been thoughtfully considered, when he typically wasn't. "I may not agree with you sustaining life on rabbit food, but - well, you'd do the same for me, so...Gracias and De Nada."

Sam had put his salad aside as he had taken out the water and handed Dean the beers he had bought. "Sounds like the Second Team will do the setting up and then the First Team will head out to stand-by once the detonators are ready. Should be pretty interesting."

"You mean like our Glow-Worm friend?"

Sam had made a frowning face. "Mmmm-not quite. I mean, who knows how far back those hives went. You saw those walls."

Dean had nodded his head. "Yeah, I did. So - what?" He had motioned with his head toward the crowd of hunters around a table of charts and maps. "They think they can try to scurry from underground?"

"Probably." Sam had brought out his laptop, stunned that he had connectivity. "No telling how bug-like they are right out of hatching. Could have claws or sharp teeth, burrowing right through the Earth to come up for fresh air..."

"Dude!" Dean had waved his hand in front of his face. "Could you not - I'm eating here."

"Fine." Sam had begun to type in a few random words. Simply the ones he had heard the dying worker drone utter until he had no more jaw or lips. "Huh—" He had tilted his head in curiosity.

Dean had known that head tilt and the weird tone to the comment. "What? Did you find a picture of them?"

"No." Sam had furrowed his brow with confusion. "The words that the drone was repeating—"

"Uh-huh..." Dean had paused for the bad news.

"He could've been saying two different things, depending on a slight pronunciation difference."

"What?" Dean had snorted out a laugh. "So, I'm cursed now?"

"No. I supposed he either wanted you to kill him or - Fight the Queen. He used the word for 'mother' and a verb that can sometimes mean 'revolt to freedom'."

"So..." Dean had wrinkled his forehead in deep thought. "Propaganda?"

"No, I don't think so." Sam had spun to look to where Bobby and Mitchell stood with the First Team of hunters. "I think they need to know this." He had picked up the laptop and got off the folding chair. "Be right back."

Dean had shaken his head as he had watched Sam wander over with his laptop monitor displayed. He had gotten into a deep discussion with the group of older hunters and then they had brought him over to help them study their maps, their hard files, or whatever paperwork they had tacked onto this huge pegboard. It had appeared as if Sam would be lost to Dean for a few hours, so he had made use of himself. He had seen there were offices up on the second floor, but those were being used or had faulty floorboards, so they were unsafe. There had been a few random office areas that Dean could've snagged to give he and Sam a bit of privacy, but for some reason there had been a group of hunters who thought of themselves deserving of the higher quality room and board that the warehouse barely offered. So Dean had figured they would rough in out in the open, which was fine. He had set out he and Sam's bed rolls - side by-side. By the time he was done, he had designed a nice little camp area for them. Dean had felt curious eyes following him, turning to see Bobby approaching him.

"Hey, Bobby."

"You wanna white picket fence and a two-car garage to go with that?"

"Nah, but I'd settle for a soft mattress and indoor plumbing." Dean had burped under his throat, blowing the breath out the side of his mouth, then had rubbed his belly. "Chilli may not have been such a good idea."

Bobby had chucked his thumb over his shoulder. "They got port-a-potties outside. I can show you when you need to go."

Dean had shaken his head to decline the bit of hand-holding like he was still a little boy. "Wha's up?"

"I don't know. Ain't seen you or your brother in a while." Bobby had crossed arms to narrow eyes on Dean. "An' then you drop everything to come on a big hunt with me." He had tilted his head. "You an' Sam doin' okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, peachy." Dean had been about to go about his business when he had a thought he could be giving off mixed signals. "Why? Does it look like we're fighting?"

"No, but somethin' seems - different. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"He's good, I'm good, we're good. It's all good."

"Well, then I'm glad." Bobby had glanced up to see Sam walking past them.

"-'Night, Bobby." Sam had gone back to the table to grab his salad container and water bottle, the laptop closed under his arm as he then had moved to drop down on one of the two sleeping bags, back against the wall on a makeshift pillow made by Dean. He had started opening his salad, taking out all his "extra bits" in order to turn it into a real salad; it even came with its own plastic fork. He had stuffed the water bottle between his thighs, working on opening the cap.

Bobby had taken a few extra minutes to gaze between the brothers, just out of wild curiosity. "See you two sleepin' beauties in the mornin'."

Dean had eased onto the other sleeping bag, stretching out beside Sam, just like they would've done in a motel room, except they would be laying a lot closer. "M'sorry." He had mumbled out, chin to chest.

"What for?" Sam had frowned, looking at Bobby's retreating form. "Everything okay?"

Dean had flipped onto his back, arm across his chest, an arm tucking behind his head. "Why does everyone assume things AREN'T 'okay'?"

"Uh, because usually they aren't, Dean."

Dean had heaved a sigh to then bring the arm on his chest to cross over his face, blocking his eyes. "I'm apologizing because our night got ruined."

Sam had been momentarily startled by Dean's sudden admission. "-jesus, I don't need an apology for that. We're still here, and together."

"Yeah, but..." Dean had attempted to say something more but gives another sigh in frustration.

"But - what, Dean?"

"Nothing. Never mind." Dean had closed his eyes and had shaken his head. "It's stupid." He had reopened his lids to angle his head to look up at Sam, so close but yet still too far away. "Did what you find...help them any?"

"A little. It puts a spin on a few things." Sam had taken a few bits of his salad, chewing as he had talked, pushing the food to his cheek. "They're putting out some calls to outside hunters to see if any other creature like this exists. We may have stumbled on an all-out war between two Queens."

"ooo, fun." Dean had cleared his throat as he had rolled away onto his right side, back facing Sam. He could hear a bit more typing, then the close of the laptop as the hard drive had gone silent. Then Sam becomes serious in eating the rest of his food, undistracted, making sure he had started scooting over to butt against Dean's back.

"Don't move. Don't turn around." Sam had still been leaning on the wall, muttering between gulps of water. "Don't give it away that you're awake."

Dean's eyes had been wide open. "Sam..."

"I know why you're upset. I know you planned for something to change tonight. You built up your nerve and now you probably lost it." Sam had chomped on lettuce and drank his water as if he was eating while Dean slept. "It means a lot that you would do that for me - for us. So I am sorry that we lost that chance, but...there will be other chances. It's not over. I know you, Dean. You can be tenacious when you want something, and you're even more-so when you attempt to make me happy." He had reached out to subtly brush his hand over Dean's jacket. "It's all right, and, uh...thanks." Sam had made to rise off the sleeping bag, making a big deal of throwing out his empty container, then he had returned to lay down on his back and try to catch some rest of his own before they would be woken to head on out again. 

As the early morning hours had crept in, they had both crawled under their individual sleeping bags to ward off the chill. But when attempting to keep warm alone hadn't worked, they had joined their sleeping bags, but had settled down to rest back-to-back. Sam had dozed fine, but it had been Dean who had fidgeted. So while Sam had been half face-down with his right leg drawn up, he had called Dean over, untucking his left arm to slide between their bodies and had directed Dean to undo his zipper, take out his cock. Dean had quietly obeyed, half hard and leaking precome by the time Sam's big paw had gone around him, stroking, edging him to a release.

"Lemme touch you, Sam, it's only fair."

"One step at a time, Dean. We don't wanna rise suspicion."

Dean had closed his eyes and slow fucked the shape of Sam's hand. "Fuck! This is so hot! Coming jus' from all the under-the-blanket jerking off we can do." And sure enough, a few more pokes into Sam's hand and Dean had come, biting down on his lips to stem his cry as he had rolled to smother the rest.

"Stay on your stomach. I'm gonna flip to my left side in a few minutes." When Sam had, he unzipped to take out his own cock, guiding Dean's hand to surround his erect length. "Think of your hand as you, as I fuck into your hole..."

"-jesusfuck..." With Dean's loosened waistband, Sam had been able to tuck his fingers down to dive under the thick jeans, sliding between the cheeks and play at the puckered skin. Dean thrusts back in little juts. "-yeah, do it...fuck me right here with your fingers while I jerk you off."

"I already know you'll be warm and tight - so tight aroun' my dick when I come inside you."

It was killing Dean that he couldn't have that. "-please-"

"Wan' me to fuck you?"

"-yeah-"

"-Sssshh, take a deep breath..." 

Just as Dean had, Sam had stuck a wet finger in, watching Dean almost come apart. Dean had started pushing down to the ground, then up, but then he was mostly chasing Sam's finger. Once Dean had gotten comfortable and hard from one, Sam told him to breathe deep again, then he added two spit-covered fingers. Dean hand had loosened off Sam's cock and he had lifted a little to rise low to his knees; Dean's own cock had been painfully pulsating. He had given himself two hard jerks and then he came intense and messy for a second time, feeling Sam's fingers ease out of him. Dean had heard Sam jerk on his own shaft then let out a contented sigh as if he had taken a leak on himself. They both slowly, and silently, did up their jeans, tucking their semi-hard cocks away. They had both slept like babies, and underneath their sleeping bag material their arms touched, their hands and fingers twisted about the other and one leg each had managed to tangle.

The morning proved to them how desperate they had become for privacy and being alone together. They had tried to put their minds on the hunt, but it had been tough when they could smell one another and feel the radiating body heat from being continually aroused with no release. Dean had felt like such a wanton slut because he had almost begged Sam to find some random place to fuck him: outside, behind a shed or inside a shed. Just anywhere Dean could brace his hands on a sturdy wall and drop trough to take Sam's cock up his ass. The dirty-kinkiness of last night had added fuel to an already blazing inner fire. It was obvious Sam had sensed much the same as he couldn't stop staring at Dean, or Dean's ass, or his bow legs or his hands. He had even begun to star at the hair on top of Dean's head.

Thankfully, by mid-morning when it had come time to blow away the underground hives, Dean and Sam had been lock-and-loaded enough to kill any and all supernatural creatures, and the few monsters that still went bump in the night. Such a build up of testosterone had given them a no-holds-barred vibe to end the life at the bottom of their gun barrels before THEY had ended the Winchesters.

At exactly 10:47am, all detonators had been set-off and at 10:48am, Dean had felt the Earth move for a whole different reason. Sam had too, and every other hunter who had been standing guard with them, poised with their guns at the ready. Dean and Sam had crouched to balance their feet, like they had been on a surfboard or a skateboard. Some hunters fell over, losing equilibrium, and others had toppled over because not only had the Earth, literally, moved, the dirt beneath their feet had sunk in and had taken them with the momentum of the vacuuming suction.

Sam could see the moment happening like a domino effect and his only thought had been to run for Dean, which he had. That had been a good idea because right where Dean had been standing, a sink-hole had caved in and tried to bury him under fifteen feet of dry-crusted dirt.

"DEAN!!!"

"SAM-MAY!!!"

Sam would've gone for Dean's hand but he had thought better and had latched onto Dean's whole forearm, right at the bend of his elbow. "I GOT YOU, MAN!!! HOLD ON!!!"

"LEMME GO, SAM!!!" Dean had already lost his gun, which had been sucked right out of his palms.

"NO!!!" Sam could feel the force of the vacuum attempting to pull him in with Dean.

"SAM!!-MAY!!! LEMMEGO!!!"

"GIVE IT A MINUTE!! IT'LL STOP!!!"

And right when Sam had stated those very words, the Earth had stop caving in on itself. It had even stopped shaking. Sam had continued to pant, grunting, looking for an opportune minute to yank Dean back onto the surface of the ground. In a few short seconds, Sam had found some kind of super-human strength, all on his own, to haul his big brother out of the hole that had attempted to suck him in and suffocate him to death.

Sam had landed on his back; Dean had gone face-down in the stable dirt. He had felt like kissing it. They had allowed a few minutes to pass, catching their breathes, then Dean had stood upright to bend and help Sam to his own two feet. He had pat Sam hard on the back, dust kept flying every which way around them like a fog.

"You shoulda let me go." Dean couldn't help but state this plainly.

"An' risk losing you?"

"God dammit!!" Dean had simply paced away like Sam had said or done something to piss him off.

"Oh! You're WELCOME!!" Sam had snapped back.

**|| || || || || ||**

**tbc...**


	3. Chapter 3

**MONSTER**

**chapter three**

 

They had been split apart for a good solid hour. They had worked better that way at this moment in time. Dean could storm in and play "Big Dumb Hero", kamikaze with his guns blazing and there would be "no Sam" there to try and kill himself first before Dean got dead.

That's all Dean had been able to see: the force of everything not only sucking him in, but Sam as well. Dean hadn't wanted that on his conscience, but what he also hadn't asked for was for Sam to do everything humanly possible to save him to only put his own life at risk. THAT was what Dean had been afraid of - this fucking' Hero Complex. I love you, so I'll sacrifice my life to save you, No, no, you live on in my memory, Don't forget me. All that romantic, sentimental bullshit Dean was scared would surface. He had known it would come around to bite them in the ass sooner or later, just thought it would get here when they had actually started fucking.

Dean had been part of the back-up Sweep Team. He had been paired with a slew of rowdy renegade-type hunters and, before they had headed out, they had promised to kick some ass and take names.

Sam had been relegated to the back-up team of the back-up Sweep Team. He and his rag-tag crew hadn't been needed as much since it had appeared that once the incubating larva had inhaled pure oxygen, they almost died instantly. Sam had been cradling his sawed off across his forearms as he watched Dean helm the front of the nine, exiting the man-made entrance that now had looked like a imploded hole in the side of a hill of dirt. Dean had veered away from the eight hunters, walking off to head into the warehouse, but Sam had remained behind, keeping sight of the Impala so Dean didn't pull a dick move and bail on him. He could hear the rest of Dean's crew bragging about what had gone in underground.

"...I swear it was beyond bad-ass!!"

"-like somethin' outta the movies!!"

"-like Dirty Harry!!"

One of the hunters had pulled his unloaded weapon on another hunter in front of him, getting him to his knees as he had mimicked in a low growling voice - eerily like Dean's. "Don' look at me! You're nothin' but a monster! Die with some fuckin' dignity!BLAMMO!!!" He had made the sound of a couple gunshot blasts piercing the back of a head, brain splattering like mush on the walls or the floor, wherever. "Two shots ta da head!! An' Fred is dead!!"

"Beauty!!"

"eh, well...tha's a Winchester for ya!!"

Sam simply had stood there, soaking up the rest of the dialogue to see if they would keep talking about Dean, in a positive or a negative manner. None of them had appeared to know much about Sam Winchester and his demon-side, so he thought it best if he exited at this point. He had bitten the inside of his cheek as he spun around to follow the direction Dean has disappeared to, who was already loading the Impala with their things, backseat and trunk. Dean had even said his goodbyes to Bobby. Sam could only turn in his weapon, then wave a hand high in the air toward Bobby. He had shut the trunk lid for Dean, then slid up the the passenger-side bodywork to yank on the door handle. He had plopped down, swinging his right leg in as he slammed the door panel shut.

"You gonna tell me where we're heading?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't fuckin' know. I feel like drivin' 50 miles toward the sunset." Dean had swiveled his head on Sam. "That okay with you?"

Sam had shrugged, turning to face out the window. "You angry with me because I saved your ass?" He had slowly twisted back around to stare Dean down, who couldn't seem to look at him.

"No, I'm angry because - I'm angry because..." Dean had bowed his head briefly, then had started the engine to idle. He had twisted just his torso to face Sam. "-you didn't think twice about saving yourself. Had it gone differently—"

Sam had begun to look away, staring down at his own legs. "You think I would've somehow gotten pulled in too, with you?"

"Sammy..." Dean had gradually shaken his head, clearing his throat. "I don't know how - didn't you feel the force of that suction? I thought for sure I'd bring you down." He had startled when Sam had reached over to clamp his right thigh, then he had recognized Sam retreating once he adjusted to Dean's first reaction.

"You'd do the same for me, any day. Why can I just do it without you bitchin' and complainin'?"

"Because, I'm the big brother. It's my job to keep you safe and protected. Do stupid moves like you did to prove to you that I'm always here for you."

Sam still hadn't been clear on why Dean was upset with him. "An' it can never be the other way around?" That was all Sam was getting loud and clear from Dean's ranting.

"No. Never."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks for the memo then. Next time, I'll just let you fall."

"Good!!"

"Great!!"

"Awesome!!"

Sam had begun to slouch, crossing his arms and leaning back to rest his head as he had closed his eyes to nap, while Dean was being a big bitchy baby.

Dean had kept side-glancing to Sam as he had driven along, like he said, until the sun set. He had some idea he had handled that pretty piss-poorly, but had distracted Sam enough from the real truth. Dean had decided they would need to cool this down. Just a few days to see how they reacted. He had hated doing this to Sam without a warning of some kind, but it was for the best.

Problem was, Sam was fine with the return to their brotherly relationship. It had been Dean who actually suffered the most.

**|| || || || || ||**

Dean had no idea the level of self-torture he'd inflict on himself by retreating, unable to show Sam he needed him or he needed him to finger him or rim him or just fuck him silly. Trouble was Dean's fabricated lie had worked too well. Sam had thought Dean was only being his usual bitch-ass self. That he had still been pissed at Sam for putting his life in jeopardy in order to save Dean. It was something Dean would usually yell at Sam for, keeping his distance and speaking to him in curt clipped sentences. It was nothing new for Sam, even though they hadn't slept in the same bed since that day or touched intimately, or even touched at all. And just because Dean was distant, Sam didn't keep himself too far, in case Dean would allow him back in.

Dean should've vetoed ALL the touching, because even when Sam was his sweet brotherly special self, it had kind an underhanded sexual vibe to the action. That was odd for Dean to realize, that Sam simply "being Sam" could be seen as overly intimate and sexual.

It had been four days and four nights since that last day of the weird bug hunt. Right around mid-afternoon of the second day, not only was Dean's cock aching, but so was his fucking shoulder - really, it was his rotator cuff. Sam's dive to save him from the sucking sink-hole had given him this residual pain that hadn't chosen to show itself until Dean had been forced to use his hands in a repetitive motion. So, yeah, Dean had taken to very long hot showers at night and freezing cold one in the morning. Each extra moment spent stroking himself - doing that "edging" thing on his cock Sam could do much better. He should be a complete jackass and run away at night and pick up a random female from the local drunk hangout. Or even try his luck at there being some young hunky Sam look-a-like who wouldn't mind a willing Bottom that only wanted to be diddled with until he had come so hard his body still vibrated hours after. But there was no one like that except Sam and, thankfully, Dean's body was fully aware of that fact.

So...it had been the fifth night, and Dean had been close to caving in since he hadn't been with Sam since the "sleeping bag make-out session", and boy, had that vision come in handy to use in Dean's fantasies while jerking off in the shower. The case they had worked on for two days was another open and shut, but Dean had needed to add some new information they had discovered in Dad's journal. Dean had let Sam shower first, while he had taken the bed with his sore shoulder throbbing, and had written furiously everything he could remember.

Sam had strolled out of the shower, told Dean it was now his turn and had proceeded to not only invade Dean's space but to also take up that nice empty spot on Dean's bed. Again, Sam had innocently touched, though in a brotherly fashion, and had still ended up rattling Dean having been four days of not touching so intimately. Dean had thought Sam would be good and just surf and search on the laptop he had brought over, but even as Dean had grunted and groaned moving about to attempt to undress, Sam had been able to multi-task. Helping to remove boots, socks, Sam had massaged and kissed the soles of the bare feet. Dean couldn't believe that Sam could be that gross but then again, they had been through some pretty weird shit over the years.

Dean hadn't wanted Sam's help undressing, but when his shoulder had locked in one position, making the whole arm go numb and dead, Sam had been right there, like always.

Sam shifts behind Dean, on bended knees a little higher so he can look down at the crown of the dirty blond head, then he slowly works at unbuttoning Dean's top flannel, untucking the t-shirt. Sam's easing the flannel material off and then gradually down Dean's biceps, with the button-down off, pooled at Dean's back, they both work the t-shirt up the torso to the nipples. Dean slides his good arm out, then Sam pulls the collar over Dean's head and the t-shirt flows along off the limp arm.

Dean fumbles on his own with his button and zipper on the jeans, but then Sam hops off the mattress to kneel at Dean's feet. He lightly shoves Dean backward, five-finger spread over the center of his chest; Dean bounces and closes his eyes as Sam slowly lowers the zippered teeth, adjusting to face Dean so he can wiggle him out of the semi-tight denim. Sam only grabs the jeans but he may as well take the briefs too as it's plain how stiff Dean has become under tight cotton. Sam's nostrils flare as if he scents the potent arousal, but he keeps going through with taking Dean's jeans off. He climbs to his tall height, hauling Dean up, and up and upright to his own feet, setting him in motion to head to the bathroom on his own. As Dean disappears behind the door, Sam wanders over to Dean's bags to pull out the shaving kit and a clean pair of underwear. He hurriedly busts in, leaving Dean's stuff on the toilet shelf, then scurries off as if he was never there.

Dean stands there, dumbfounded, because with his shoulder throbbing and arm dead, soon he wants to give in, to lean on Sam, to let Sam take care of him for a while. He also wants to go back to crawling into bed, knowing Sam will be there, warm and safe at his back, that later on in the night they will wake up so horny and aroused they'll make out and have their own version of sex, then fall back asleep, huddled together. Dean takes a longer shower tonight, just letting the water pelt him hard enough to bruise - like a cheap massager. He doesn't jerk off because his better hand had become useless, plus he wants to get back out there to Sam. Toweling off proves fruitless with one arm; it's even sadder when he tries to put on the clean pair of briefs. He has to do some fancy maneuvering and when he loses his towel, he lets it fall and walks out, carrying his shaving kit in one hand. He noticed Sam is still on his bed, propped up on the headboard. Sam pats the space beside him, showing Dean the strong-scented lineament that he's going to rub and soothe into Dean's shoulder. Dean pops some muscle relaxers first, then ventures back to the bed and sits down, facing away from Sam.

The second Sam's hand smooths along the bad shoulder, Dean's rolling out a low groan. Not only were those big paws massaging the shoulder, shoulder joint and shoulder blade, but Sam does this cool-thing where he twists down the biceps and along the forearm, then works on kneading over the whole hands. But what is even more interesting is Sam had Dean tilting his head so he could get to nape and side of the neck. There were straining muscles and tendons Sam will work on, Dean becoming this mass of wobbly gelatin inside his own skin; and he can't help but lean into Sam's chest wall. After a while, once Dean can shrug to rotate his arm in the joint, Sam continues to give Dean a back massage. He doesn't do that for too long as the pills begin to kick in, Dean slowly blinking his eyes and trying not to yawn too loudly. Sam pulls away the top sheet and settles Dean on his back, making sure his head was on the pillow and it wasn't crooked. Sam yanks the hem of the sheet up Dean's body to mid-chest, then he leaves the bad arm out on top. He reaches over to turn off Dean's lamp, then slides off the mattress to go sleep in the other bed. Sam leaves the lamp between them on low, so Dean won't stumble in the dark. Sam was asleep almost as soon as Dean drifted off.

Dean continues to keep waking, attempting to roll, but he can't do it. When he forgets, he grimaces and settles back to relax and fall into slumber for a short nap. He feels like a turtle on his back shell, and unable to turn his head properly so he can see Sam in the next bed over. He wants to open his mouth and call out to Sam, but he feels like he had a bunch of cotton balls in his cheeks. Finally, Dean gives in and sleeps the rest of the night, and into early morning, and then into a deep-deep sleep up until mid-afternoon of the next day.

Dean wakes to find Sam wide awake and seated at the table, eating lunch. It feels weird because Dean can actually move his arm and there's only a dull ache, no residual pain elsewhere. He can't believe he not only slept eight whole hours, but almost half the day away. Clearly, they've gone beyond the proper "check-out" time limit.

"Relax." Sam puts up a hand to get Dean calm and settled. "You needed the sleep more than we had to solve a case. I already paid for one more night." He waves Dean over to the other chair at the dinette table where a bag of warm fast food, a soda and a milkshake wait for him. "C'mon, come over here. Sit, eat an' let's see how you feel. We'll make a decision on whether we stay another day or not."

Dean can't logically disagree with that, so he keeps his mouth shut. He shivers a bit, moving to his bag to pick out a shirt and he's careful about how he dresses so not to re-injure his shoulder. He's off to the bathroom to piss out a bladder-full of the retained water he had been holding in for almost ten hours. It feels good, but what feels even better is that when he shakes his dick before he puts it back in, he finds his shoulder isn't so sore any longer. He walks out to take the empty chair and dig into the food, slurping on the milkshake first. God, it feels blissful, cold and wet filling his mouth, dripping down his throat to spread over his lungs and make him breathe easier, feeling more normal. He opens the sack to pull out the thick juicy burger and steak fries; he salutes Sam. "Thanks, man. 'Preciate it."

Sam frowns a little because Dean is being too accommodating. "I've been looking around online, and depending how you feel by tonight, there's two cases we can get into..." Sam' taking out printed sheets to go on and on about what they entail, what's been suspected and where they're located, but Dean's only half-listening.

The other half of him can't help staring at Sam, and it's not in a very brotherly fashion. It's like he's able to detach himself and not think of Sam as related to him, like they are two mismatched hunters who happen to like working cases together. The idea allows Dean to look at Sam's face, the features he's watched grow and mature over the years, but he looks as if he's seeing them for the first time. When Dean thinks he's being too creepy, he starts watching Sam's hand as he talks, the way the wrist turns and the forearm flexes to even how the movement causes tendons and muscles to pull on the side of the neck. Sam touches his own thigh a lot, smoothing down the shape to the knee and even just clamping that big hand span over the meaty portion.

"-huh?"

"I asked you what you thought would be the best?" Sam tilts his head with a quirk of his eyebrow. "Need me to repeat anything?"

"No, no. I'm good. I just - enjoying my food a little too much." Dean is glad that this hasn't pissed off Sam.

"I understand. Missing breakfast has to make you ravenous. Do you need coffee because I can make a run—?"

"No. Milkshake was perfect. I may just take, uh...one pill once I'm done stuffin' my face. Still feel there's a tight pull. I wanna be in tip-top shape before we head out."

"Perfect. These cases aren't on a time-table, so we can take a few days, if you—"

"I won't need days, just a few hours."

"Very well." Sam shuts down the laptop to conserve power, then he places all the papers in a nice neat stack into a manila folder, placing it on the laptop. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna take a little snooze. Was up early this morning, couldn't sleep." He doesn't provide any other information, just goes to the TV, turns it on and then sits on his own bed to settle down. Once he's gone through all the channels, he lets it stay on one thing they both enjoy, then tosses the remote onto Dean's bed. "G'night."

"Mmmm-" Dean makes a noise around his food as he chews and swallows. He tries to focus on the television screen, but ends up paying more attention to how quickly Sam has fallen back asleep.

Five days now, working on the sixth, and Dean is stuck in this strange place where he doesn't give a fuck about anything but Sam, and then this odd head-space where he's challenging himself to explain the path they've chosen, wondering if because of their less-than-normal circumstances, this is why they tend to blur the lines of relationships. That they have isolated themselves so much that they depend on one another to function, sometimes simply to feel motivated. Or that there's something - someone - to keep saving the world for.

He finishes as much of the burger as he can, drinks all his milkshake, slurping on his soda as he takes the one pill. He swipes at the remote, moving to the window to peek out, make sure the world he recalls is still out there, Impala in sight. He backs up to sit on the bed, not even caring that it's Sam's bed. Dean's always had this fascination with being near Sam as he sleeps heavy; a perfect aspect of how he still watches over his little brother. As Dean settles on something on the TV to keep watching, while he situates himself to lie on his left, facing Sam, who now is lying face down, legs akimbo and arms tucked under a pillow stuffed under his flushed cheeks. Dean bends and tucks a left arm under his head, bringing his right arm up to brush Sam's long hair out of his face, then he shuffles pillows and body closer so he can trace the bulges of the biceps, on down the curvy line of the hard body.

It's weird how he can detach Sam - brother, into Sam - utter stranger. He supposes he's able to do that because Sam's demon-side lends the possibility that there's a split personality present - a side Dean will never understand. The side he knows doesn't exactly scare him as much as make him wish they were different. That they weren't the children of John and Mary Winchester. That they weren't related. That Sam could've had that normal apple pie kind of life and simply been "Sam". Because other than this demon-thing, Dean considers his little brother a pretty awesome person, even when he frustrates and gets on his last nerve.

Dean eventually rolls the other way, on his right side, back to Sam, and he shuts his lids and easily drifts into more sleep.

Dean had some idea what would happen if he had crawled into Sam's bed. He had wanted - needed - Sam to know they could resume their shared intimacy. So when he keeps waking to feel Sam press his front to his back, those muscular arms loosely wrapping around him and those long heavy legs tucking and tangling with Dean's, Dean wishes that he can be satisfied with just those actions. He had gone without for far too long that once he was reintroduced back into those moments, not only does he want what he was getting, but he wants even more. He wants Sam to take, but Sam had good restraint where Dean had none.

Dean presses back into Sam's groin, feeling the hardness, the pulsations against his bottom. It made him eager to be fully naked, meshing skin on skin with Sam. Back turned and still on his side, Dean pulls at his t-shirt's back collar, sending his hair in disarrayed spikes. He lowers his briefs, but not before he glances behind him to make sure he and Sam are on the same page. Sam peels off his own t-shirt and sweatpants, going down to briefs as well. Once Sam sees Dean's bare backside, he's quickly taking off his briefs too. Now they both are there, fully nude on their right sides and Sam places a hand on Dean's hip to pull him back but to also move his own body toward. The second they merge together, both flinch and shudder, Dean reaches back to hold onto Sam's outer thigh.

"Stay here. Lemme feel you."

Sam breathes even and deep, bending low to nudge the back of Dean's hair and then nuzzle the neck to kiss the bare shoulder. "Miss'd this. Miss'd you."

"I know. Me, too." Dean is stunned to realize how true that statement was for him and how right this felt to be together like this. It had been in his mind to explain his reason, but he lost track of it when he felt Sam lift his left leg, opening his crease and then wet, soft lips trailed down his spine.

Sam spread him open fully, diving in to lick and suck over his puckered hole. Dean makes some kind of girly noise and then thrusts into Sam's face, the end of the tongue filling him, then lapping over his balls, sucking on each testicle until Sam can reach under and pull back the hard cock to give the inch or two he could see a good lick and suck. Dean doesn't know what to do or where to go, so he allows Sam to decide; he gradually rolls him onto his back, niching himself between spread thighs. Cock juts out from a bed of soft curls and Sam cups the scrotal sac, stroking the length as he sucks on just the domed head. Dean's hips keep bucking to fuck and thrust into Sam's mouth, but he is lost in sensation and pleasure, throwing his head back to groan out the mournful noises of pleasure he's trying to contain. Sam finally crawls up his body, his own cock hard and leaking, poking at Dean's pelvis and belly to finally settle when they merge and begin to move as one. Sam trails hands down Dean's biceps to forcefully hold him to the bed as they pound against one another to the slip-slide and slapping of their sweating naked bodies. Dean pauses before he comes first, allowing the momentum of Sam's body to carry him through until Sam orgasms after him.

It's tough now for both of them to decide what to do: more of what they just did or - something else new and wondrous? When Sam had been able, he rises from the bed to go to his own duffel and pulls out the tube of water-based lubrication; he palms a stash of condoms just in the hopes that Dean will change his mind. As he sets a knee on the bed, he drags Dean by the leg close so he can wet the hole that is already twitching for some action, mostly friction. He uses the extra lube to coat the balls and the shaft, playing at the head a bit, watching Dean grow harder. Sam hops onto the mattress and stretches out beside Dean, hooking his left leg over a thigh. Dean widens the spread of his legs, letting Sam finger him as he slow strokes himself. First, Sam inserts his thumb, long and thick like a cock, and Dean practically bucks straight into the air, but Sam grounds him with a leg. As Sam plays around, nailbed massaging at the prostate, Dean jerks harder, rougher. When Sam pulls his thumb out, he replaces it with two fingers, middle and ring, and Dean throws back his head, fucking himself on the two fingers inside him.

"Ohshit!! Ohshiiiit!...fuckyes! yesyesyes...fuuuuuck!" Dean wants to move and fidget, but with Sam weighing him to the mattress, it looks like he keeps twisting away, like he's pulling at restraints. Sam speeds up his hand, thrusts and watches the cock jolt, then spray pre-come, pulling taut to the belly as the ejaculate pools and oozes out of the slit. Dean closes his eyes and attempts to calm himself to relaxing. Again, Sam is leaving his own pleasure out of the equation.

At some point, Dean is able to loosen from Sam's hold, rolling to flip onto his stomach. Sam is still lying curled on his right side, and Dean settles an arm around Sam to kiss up his body and slide their cheeks together, merging brows. He almost kisses Sam, like a light peck, but he knows he'll leave that moment up to Sam. Dean feels Sam's hand soothe down his back, over the curve of his ass cheeks and slipping down to play with his hole. "—want you to fuck me."

Sam takes a momentary pause. "Like we did a few days ago?"

"No. Fuck me - with your dick."

"Oh..." Sam keeps his head bowed as he flips to grab the condoms, then finds the lube again. He wants to make sure this will be as smooth and painless as possible. This is when he is most comfortable and confident, showing Dean something new that only Sam was better at than his brother. "C'mon, on your knees. You can either be on your hands or forearms." Sam kicks the legs open, a little wider, pushing down on Dean's lower back; it works best if Dean is on his forearms. Sam opens the first packet, slicking his length, then squeezing a generous amount of gel over Dean's hole, rubbing the liquid in, wetting the canal inside and out. He keeps poking different fingers in, watching Dean thrust back as his own cock and balls dangle under him. Sam plants knees, taking the underside of his shaft to slap over the split crease, right directly against the gaping hole, getting Dean to jolt in fright a bit. He penetrates with just the tip at the opening like a small threat he'll penetrate at any time; he's the one in control, for the moment. Soon, he has Dean whimpering and pushing toward him, bouncing a bit off his pelvis and hips. Bracing his left hand on the bed, looming over Dean's back, Sam guides his cock to sink in deeper. "Remember...take a deep breath, exhale as you feel me push in, then bear down, always."

Dean tries to match the tempo, at first, but he fucks it up and the pull and drag of dick and rectum feels strange inside him and he rolls away to roughly pull Sam out. "Sorry...sorry...that was me. All me."

"You don't have to do this, Dean. We can stop."

"No, no. Now I'm ready to do this. I promise." Dean gets back into position. This time he only pushes his face into the bed so he frees his arms to reach behind, pulling his cheeks apart. "Need you - need your cock inside me, fuckin' me..." He knows it really is what he needs and wants, so damn desperately he'll even beg if he has to.

Sam puts a bit more lube around the pinkish skin, then poses again at the hole, inching in with each slow thrust. Dean's hands start to shake so Sam swats them away, and then in one exhale, he slides in deep then stops, hips connecting with ample cheeks. "Oh, god...shit! so good, so tight - I knew it!" He lowers to rest on Dean's concaved back, matching limb for limb, kissing nape and shoulder, along the neck and part of the cheek. "-tell me when you need me to move, I will."

Dean doesn't know what to feel except that he had something thick, big and hard up his ass. He keeps wanting to push it out, bear down and release. He can't see how this could possibly be pleasurable, and then he feels Sam's length shift a little or it flinches or it throbs, but it brushes him in places so deep inside where he's never been touched, never had known he had "sweet spots" up his rectum that could feel this good. "-'kay, you can—" He chokes on his words once Sam moves for real, and Dean grunts to move so he actually forms clawed hands in the bed. His body counter-thrusts each time Sam thrusts inward. Pretty soon there's a soft mesh of skin on skin, the sound of slickened canal and wet latex slip-sliding together.

Sam grabs onto Dean's hips, speeding up, which causes Dean to increase his own tempo, making Sam try and match it. As they slam as one, the bed frame rocks, the headboard hits against the wall. Sam sets his own pace after a while, relentless in his pounding as Dean tumbles toward the mattress. Sam rams deep as he can get until he shots his load into the condom's tip, still moving as he comes. He tucks an arm under to lift Dean back up, but Dean actually pushes upright so he and Sam are both on their knees. Dean holds onto Sam's thigh as he fucks himself to an orgasm, using one of his hands to stroke his own cock as he comes, making damn sure he's completely spent. What Dean is shocked to find he likes is coming down from his orgasm, Sam still inside him, semi-hard and hands caressing and arms holding him close. He relaxes back on Sam's body, shutting his eyes to catch a breather. He looks down to see Sam's fingers touching his inner thighs, then quickly stroking over his sensitive cock, wiping off the last of his leaking come.

At the same time, Sam leans further back as Dean rises up to stand on knees and the fullness pops out of Dean's ass. Sam reaches up to steady Dean, making certain he looks all right, not light-headed or dizzy. "You good?"

"Yeah. Never Better." Which was true. Dean doesn't think it can get any better than this moment.

Boy, was he ever glad to be utterly wrong.

**|| || || || || ||**

Now that the door had been opened, one would assume they would fuck all the time, every night, anytime they were alone, anywhere. Not so. Maybe every other night and every other random moment alone. They had started sleeping in the same bed again, which Dean had found he had grown to want more than anything. They had fucked only when they were that desperate and needy for one another, turning it into a special and exciting moment between them. Getting into a routine might turn it into a mundane occurrence they could grow bored with.

They had become adventurous, trying new positions. Dean had enjoyed riding Sam from the top, controlling his Bottom position in a different angle. He had liked that Sam let him explore, let him find his comfort levels, but inevitably they had always chosen to fuck from behind.

Sam had understood that it had given a different penetration, but at some point he had wanted to switch it up and actually take Dean on his back, with his thighs wrapped around him; he had wanted to look into Dean's face, catch his expressive green eyes. It was just a weird quirk that they had done every position but face-to-face. Sam had let it go as simply something he would have to grow accustomed to.

But on the nights they fucked in different positions, other than on all fours, Sam had tried to get Dean to look at him, and Dean would avert his head or even playfully turn Sam's head away to dive for a spot on his neck. Sam had started noticing a pattern quickly after that. Once his cock was inside, he would grab Dean's chin and Dean would attempt to wrench away; he had even started to do it one night while they were fucking in their usual fashion: Dean on his knees, spread wide, braced off his hands and Sam had kissed his shoulders, reaching a hand under to turn Dean's face to just kiss a cheek and Dean bat his hand away.

"Stop playin' aroun' an' just fuck me!"

So Sam had done exactly as commanded, leaving Dean a quivering, mumbling mess of a human. He had bounced off the mattress in frustration and had tore off the condom to head into the bathroom. He had shut the door, starting to pace, hands on hips as his nostrils flared. Sam had some idea it was only his mind tricking him, but he had realized that Dean was doing that on purpose. Like it was easier to stomach a cock in his ass as long as he didn't have to see a face - Sam's face. He had begun to wonder then, what would Dean have used to convince himself fucking facedown would allow him to forget it was even Sam, his little brother? Or was it that Dean might lean a little toward homosexuality than once thought?

Maybe it wasn't even about the thought of being gay, but just had everything to do with Sam. Not that Sam was his brother, but that Sam, no matter how human he looked, he was something else entirely less human...more monster.

Like the creatures they had hunted from case to case.

Sam had splashed water on his face, drying face and hands, then had wandered back out with a calmer head, still not clear and deeply confused.

Dean was sitting up against the headboard, a frown marring his brow and his green eyes looking Sam over. "You good?"

"Yup." Sam had lifted the pile of sheets to crawl under as he had stretched out on his back.

"Is it cool if I—?" Dean had gestured to the sheets under him. Like he was supposed to get permission.

"Sleep wherever you like, Dean. Just make damn sure it's exactly where you wanna be."

Dean had smirked as he had tucked his legs under moving to huddle against Sam's side. "Why wouldn't I wanna be here? You're, like, the world's best personal space-heater."

"Glad I'm good for something." Sam had rolled to lay on his left side, feeling Dean attach to his back, arm going up and around his waist.

Dean's other arm curled around the top of Sam's head on the pillow, fingers playing at the dark brown strands. "We should think 'bout a case near Bobby's or...give him a call to see if he'll need us."

"Sure. Call him tomorrow, though. It's late right now."

"I know. I'll call him from the road on our way." Dean had pressed into Sam's shoulder as his mind had whirred.

"Dean, kind of tired right now. Can we save the chatter for later?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, sure. Shutting up." Dean had placed his head down, behind Sam's head, forcing his eyes to shut.

Sam could feel how wide awake Dean still was, when usually an intense orgasm would knock him backwards. "Are you okay?"

"Mmmm-I don't know what it is but...I can't stop shaking, like I'm cold or—" Dean hadn't expected Sam to roll over to his right side, dragging him in close for a tight embrace. His head had fit right under Sam's chin, cheek on upper chest. "Ahhh, yes...this is good. How do you always stay warm and toasty?"

"Who knows. Go to sleep, Dean." Sam had figured if he could hold his brother tight enough, he would stop shivering.

"-'night, Sammy." Once Dean had relaxed on Sam's chest, tangling legs and holding his brother's waist, he had appeared to be able to settle and fall right to sleep.

**|| || || || || ||**

Dean knew something was wrong with Sam, but couldn't place his finger on it. It wasn't full-on silent treatment, nor was there a slump in the sex they were having. In fact, Sam was rather talkative, almost non-stop, just a plethora of useless encyclopedic information. Like he couldn't let one minute of silence fill the air or he'd crack at the seams.

And the sex? Forget about it. Sam was turning out to be one of the best, if not, the only best lover Dean Winchester had ever had.

It had seemed like they would find any place at anytime to connect, to rebuild their bond, growing closer. Some nights they would change it up in different positions, but the strangest thing would happen. Sam wouldn't open his eyes to look at Dean, so focused and lost in his own pleasure. When he would come, Sam would push his head back on the pillow and act like his orgasm had gotten out of control, knocking the wind out of him; Dean would reach down to touch Sam's face, brush hair back, kiss flushed skin, but Sam would avert his head, almost begging for Dean not to touch, to leave him be. Dean had hated that it appeared as if Sam was suffering through something alone, when Dean was right there. Almost every other time they fucked, it was from behind. That's when Dean had grown concerned for Sam the most. Not only had Sam begun to fuck harder, he came quicker. And that had turned Dean on even more.

When they weren't fucking, just being intimate, Sam wouldn't connect gazes. There was a smile, but he would often just bury his face and turn away. Sam had even started some weird form of cuddling from behind, especially in bed watching TV or simply huddling to fall asleep; Sam would always hold him tight, front to back. About the only time Dean had gotten to stare into Sam's face was when he was asleep, if Dean was able to stay wide awake. Dean hadn't known what was wrong with Sam, but he knew that once they had gotten to Bobby's, they could get to the core of what all this strangeness was stemming from.

It's their last night at this motel. Dean and Sam are both naked, stretched out on their stomaches, letting all that sweaty moisture on their skin dry off. They know in front of Bobby they had to self-contain and control themselves but Dean is having a tough time realizing the closeness he will lose with Sam, if they keep their intimacy intact. Dean's one fear is being abandoned, waking up one day with no Sam beside him and nothing but memories to keep him warm. Bobby's would be the perfect place for Sam to drop him off and just walk away - forever. He scoots over, closer, tentative fingers brushing over the flexing biceps, then the muscular forearm. He follows the dark hair to the wrist, then settles his hand over Sam's fingers, tracing and rubbing between the shapes.

Sam has such a beautiful body, Dean fantasizes about worshiping it: seeing Sam tied up, half-naked and looking a bit roughed-up. Dean slides over to let his hand move down the naked back, fingertips dancing along the curved spine to the dip to the ass mounds. God, this kid was massive and breathtaking. Dean presses his heated cheek on the left shoulder blade, letting his right hand shape over an ass cheek as he pulls the pliable flesh apart from the other cheek. He sends his hand under the bottom, cupping the huge sack and squeezes the ovals to rub over the taint, which causes Sam to stir. Dean traces his tongue tip down the back, then smacks wet, sloppy kisses over the bottom as he shifts his body to straddle Sam's legs. Grabbing both mounds, he opens the crack to look at the darkened puckered skin, then he runs his tongue down from tailbone to anus, sucking on the hole, giving it a slight tasting. It's not as bad as he had once thought, more clean and just musky, heavy odor of butt-sweat. He kisses it, feeling the ass push back, Sam attempting to open his legs for Dean.

"Oh, god...please don't let me regret this."

"It's okay, Dean. I want you to."

Dean lifts left, then right knees to help Sam spread his thighs wide enough and he's back to sucking, tongue licking the twitching hole. "Wanna be in there - so bad." One hand holding the anus exposed, Dean jerks himself. Sam hands over the tube of lubrication - a new larger bottle. Dean pulls back, licks his finger to insert slowly; Sam lets out a nice sigh, face down on the mattress. It's hotter and tighter than Dean thought it would be, and he wonders how it will be for his own cock. Dean rises to reach for the condom packets, but Sam's snatches for his wrist.

"Don't. Please. I like it raw." Sam muffles his voice as he nearly buries his head under a pillow. "Wanna feel you, skin on my skin...wanna feel you buried so deep, when you come inside me."

That is, like, the hottest thing Dean has ever heard or ever thought of doing - fucking raw and coming inside a warm body. He buries his face in Sam's hair, slickening his length with lube. With the extra gel on his fingers, he plays around the anus and then gradually inserts the two - index and middle; he twists and curls his fingers, causing Sam to cry out then dip his face to, literally, bite at the sheets. Dean takes out his fingers, strokes a few more times, then he watches as Sam lifts his own hips and pelvis, widens his hole as he bears down. Cocktip poised at the entrance, Dean attempts to slow-inch in, but the suction of the rectum draws him full to the hilt. "Fuck! Yeah!" On his knees between Sam's thighs, Dean lets the muscles shape around his shaft. "God dammit! So fuckin' tight!" Without touching Sam, not even to grab onto him, he begins to thrust, each pounding makes Sam jolt and counter-thrust back until the mounds jiggle with the force of their bodies banging. Dean pumps his hips quick and hard, giving exactly everything Sam can take. Sam not only pushes back, he rotates his hips to make the length inside him roll around and hit every good spot that gives him pleasure.

"Fuck! I knew it! You're an animal! A beast, Sammy! Oh, god...you feel so fuckin' good." Had he known a man's ass would be this gloriously tight around his dick, Dean would've been fucking Sam a lot longer.

"You wanna fuck me?!" Sam growls low to the mattress.

"Fuck yeah!"

"You wanna come inside me?"

"Damn straight!"

"You wanna breed me an' make me yours?"

Dean pitches forward, grabs onto Sam's broad shoulders and snaps his hips back and forth at breakneck speed. "You're mine! You've always been mine!"

"Do it...seed me...come inside me deep." Sam is barely able to rise to his forearms, and in this complete darkness he can be whatever Dean needs or wants. "—dump your come in me. I want it. Want it so bad."

"You want all of it!?"

"I do!"

"Then-here it is!!" Dean jack-hammers in as he plants palms to the bed and growls out loud as he shoots a heavy load of thick, creamy semen into Sam's ass. "Oh, fuck, man! Can't stop—!" He feels the anal muscles contract around him, milking him completely dry. "Oh, shiiiit, fuuuuck..." He falls forward, brow wet on the sweaty hair as he nips and softly bites at Sam's neck and nape. He's still leaking as he jolts from such an intense orgasm. He slows his pounding down to just flexing his thighs around Sam's body. "Oh, god...Sam..."

Sam reaches back to touch Dean's face, caressing stubble. "Sssshhhh, you're good. I'm good...we're good."

Dean turns his face to kiss fingers and the palm. "I don't know why all of this, with you, scares me so much. It's all so much better than I could even dream. Granted, we aren't at our best, but we're pretty great." He nuzzles Sam's cheek, holding onto his hands, tucking his left forearm underneath Sam's chest. "We're so great together, in and out of bed. God...wanna stay inside you while you sleep so I can fuck you first thing." He gently thrusts a small stretch of seconds into Sam's ass, like he'll start to fucking all over again soon.

"Mmmm—-I'd love that. I really would." Sam's feeling a little better about thinking the worst of Dean; maybe it was simple fear. Not of being gay, but being in love and being sexually intimate with his little brother. Maybe it was...just...that...simple.

Dean shapes Sam's torso under him. "Fuck, man...did you come?" He wants to see, wants Sam to roll over so he can see that gorgeous cock and lick it clean.

"A little. I think I might have had an 'anal' orgasm."

"God, yes!" Dean gives a tiny swat to Sam's ass cheek. "Was that what squeezed the piss outta my dick?"

"Yeah." Sam chuckles softly as he place his head on folded forearms. "I've never had one that powerful before, so - thanks." He jokingly puts out a palm for Dean to smack him "five" and he does, but instead of pulling away, Dean holds tight.

"Mmmm—christ, I think I'm getting hard again. Fuck!...sooooo good, Sammy. Wanna fuck you all night long."

"Can I—? Can we, uh—?" Sam is trying to slowly turn around to his back, able to bend and tuck his leg to throw his limb on the other side of Dean, so he's now between his thighs.

"Oh, yeah, yeah...shit, yeah." Dean is stunned by how flexible and bendy Sam is for such a large male individual. On his back, Sam's legs are spread wide and hard cock juts out of dark curls to spring back on the belly. Dean plants his hands on either side of Sam's shoulders, looking down at his brother with a different emotion churning inside him. "God damn..." He mutters out as a hand caresses over cheek and jawline. "—you're so god-damn unbelievably gorgeous like this - beneath me...my cock inside you..." He starts a slow thrust that gets Sam to respond wantonly, like he's not prepared for the friction they create together. Dean presses brows, touch the breadth of shoulder and down arms. "M'gonna love taking you like this, making you mine again."

"I'm no one but yours. Always have been."

Dean closes his eyes, hands grappling for tufts of dark brown hair. "-you were mine the minute I set eyes on you. The second I held you in my arms, my heart was gone."

"Dean, don't—" Sam knows exactly what Dean's about to do, and he's not ready for this at all.

"No, man...shiiit. I've been up an' down, twisted sideways and doubled-up in knots, but the truest thing 'bout me is you, always. My weakness and my truth...my breath and my life. Without you, this world's nothing to me."

"Even if I'm—?"

Dean draws back a bit to stare down at Sam. "Lets not even factor in what you're 'half' of, because you've been nothing but 'Sam' to me - my Sammy." He breathes the word like an endearment toward Sam's face, eyes tracing every familiar feature. "I would rather have you any way I can get you, by my side forever, then do any of this alone."

Sam shuts his eyes, securing his arms around Dean's neck, cupping the back of his head. "...love you, Dean..." He utters it as he thrusts upward, ready to begin this again.

"I know you do." Dean starts to pick up pace, while Sam shudders a breath and meets his thrusts easily. "That goes ditto for me." He starts to grimace and groan, opening his mouth to take a strangled breath as Sam works his anal walls around him. "Oh, god...gonna be the death of me." He rises up to pin Sam's arms to the mattress as he picks up more speed. "...fuck, man...are you movin' your - aroun' me?" Dean is having some difficulty speaking, the more he continues to pound into Sam.

"—yeah...it helps stimulate both of us." Sam's half-lidded eyes stare as he lets out a smirk.

Sam makes his walls coax Dean to full hardness. As he's being held down, Sam bucks and struggles a bit, throwing his head back wildly. He offers out slivers of throat and stretches of his collarbone. Dean rubs his face over the chest, licking and nipping at the pert nubs at each breast. Sam starts to lift his legs, locking thighs high on Dean's body, angling him different, and Dean's able to sink deeper and makes Sam whimper and almost plead to be stroked to orgasm. Dean simply takes him in hand anyway, jerking in frenzy and playing over the seeping slit, coating the length with pre-come.

"-think we could come together?"

"We could damn well try."

Dean flicks his hips against Sam's bare bottom, feeling his own semen, from before, slosh around his shaft as he starts making sucking-squishing noises in Sam's rectum. Neither of them pay much attention as they keep ramming toward one another.

"...fuck me, fuck me, Dean...m'ready for your seed..."

"-fuck, m'gonna come again-this one might be messy-"

Sam reaches down to grab Dean's ass cheeks and pulls them apart.

"Oh, god!...gonna come-gonna come-gonna come so hard!" Dean goes completely still as his body literally quakes from release. It feels like a long spurt of clear liquid, and he keeps thrusting after a few seconds of pause.

Sam arches his back off the bed, his balls pulling in as his ejaculation shoots up his chest then his cock falls to the right, dribbling some on the crease of his right thigh. Sam just spasms as he rolls his head around, then he has an armful of cuddly Dean, which he isn't used to, so they both lightly snicker like little boys up to no good, Sam embraces Dean to his chest.

"-god! I feel your heart. On your chest...an' your cock...it's...hypnotizing how much I can fully understand what I must do to you." Dean shuffles around in his embrace of Sam to stare down at him with a tilt to his head.

Again, Sam turns his face away, but there's a sweaty, blissed out grin spreading over his face. Dean just wants to soak Sam right into his skin, keep him closer than ever. "Hey!"

"Huh?!" Sam blinks quick to turn to glance up at Dean. "What?" He's afraid he'll be smacked in the face or worse...punched.

Dean smiles at him in turn, biting at his top lip. "Nothin', but only this..." He places a hand at the left side of Sam's neck, getting him to twist to look at him as he angles his head to drop both his lips on top of Sam's...and kisses the ever-living shit out of him.

~ **the end**.


End file.
